


Hotel Coffee

by Toast_Senpai



Series: 100 Kinks [7]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Casual Sex, Feelings, Hand Jobs, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:34:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7885885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toast_Senpai/pseuds/Toast_Senpai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And that summer Ross feels like the only thing that really matters is chasing a complete stranger.<br/>i.e. the one where Ross goes after Sips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had an urge to write some Sips/Ross, so here it is. Also, I’m aware I write about hotels a lot. I don’t know why.  
> For the 100 Kinks challenge. Prompt: Casual Sex.

I

It’s the middle of summer, and Ross finds himself with a job. It had only meant to be part time gig, but because one person had quit and another was on leave, the manager had poked at Ross about working more hours that would include a sizable raise. Ross would have liked to say no, and he did try to gently decline, but apparently the manager was desperate. That, and she probably had a thing for him. And Ross, bless his heart, couldn’t see it in himself to decline someone in need. It was only going to be until the end of summer, anyway.

He usually doesn’t have to come in early, thankfully. It’s a little before noon by the time he arrives at the hotel on Sunday in his thin white button-up and black slacks. He isn’t part of the room cleaning crew, though he doesn’t mind taking out a bit of trash. Ross would admit that he has it fairly easy. His job is a variety of little things that include restocking the supply rooms, helping direct guests to their rooms and sometimes move luggage, and keeping the lounge looking nice. Can’t have the coffee running out. But his biggest task that is suddenly given to him is pool duty, more specifically looking after the towels.

The hotel isn’t a cheap one. Nights here cost towards the upper hundreds. And even so, families with children stay and the pool definitely used frequently. Ross has to constantly run out and check if there are enough towels and bring in the used ones for the cleaners to wash. There is also a little table set up just inside the door with complimentary juice and coffee that requires attention every now and then.

Ross is really getting sick of the smell of coffee.

After saying hello to a few of his coworkers, he heads into the main lobby. It’s a large space filled with long couches and soft recliners. There are a couple televisions turned on, volume low. He steps over to the breakfast bar and checks it over, making sure there are enough cups and creamers out after the morning rush. He flicks away a stray crumb left over before he turns on his heels and surveys the room, mostly looking for furniture to straighten.

There’s only one man making use of the space. He’s in a suit and tie, looking very smart, if Ross is honest. The only thing is that the man is slouching in the chair, his legs spread, and a smartphone in his hand, tipped sideways. The man looks a fair bit older than him, but yet not old enough to be in his forties. Ross lets curiosity get the better of him and he casually walks behind the man. As he passes by, he glances at the phone. The man is playing some type of game, but Ross can’t place what it is. It looks familiar, but he’s more of a console guy himself, so it doesn’t ring a bell.

He continues down the hallway to the supply room. He unlocks it and steps inside, running his eyes over boxes and folded laundry. His bored mind ponders what the man in the lobby is doing here. Probably on business, judging by his dress. He hadn’t gotten a good look at his face, not wanting to be caught staring. Ross had a habit of looking for too long and has experienced his fair share of dirty glances for it. Still, he wonders if he can get away with it, just a quick peek.

Ross grabs a stack of napkins and some straws before he leaves the room. He changes his pace, this time slowing down his steps. He puts on a pleasant smile, just in case. This time Ross walks in front of the man, not too close, making sure to leave enough space. Ross turns his head just a fraction as he strolls past.

The man is absorbed in his game. Ross has free reign to look all he wants. He gets a pretty good idea, although the man’s head is tilted down, eyes focused on the small screen. Still, it’s a nice face. Probably freshly shaved with just the faintest bit of stubble, nicely shaped eyebrows. Ross lets his smile fall as he makes it back to the breakfast bar. He quickly shoves the napkins and straws into their place before he goes over to the front desk.

The person who told him about the opening at the hotel in the first place, Alex, is at the computer, hands flying over the keys. He mostly works as the main desk guy. Ross has been friends with him for years now, and would even consider the temperamental ginger his _best_ friend.

“Hey,” Ross says quietly, leaning over the reception counter.

Alex looks up at him. “Hey.”

“Slow day?”

“Yeah. Barely had anyone stop by this morning. Even breakfast was slow, and usually it’s packed in here.”

Ross nods, then turns just enough so that he can see the man across the room. His back is to them. Ross tips his head. “How long’s that guy been here?”

Alex glances up and looks past his computer. “I don’t know, probably an hour or so? Why?”

“Just wondering,” Ross says. “I’m bored out of my mind. I don’t know why I agreed to go full time.”

“Because you can’t say no? And you _love_ working with me, admit it.”

Ross smiled. “You’re entertaining enough.”

“Thanks, mate. Right back at ya.”

Alex looks like he wants to say more, but the phone starts to ring. Ross leaves him be, heading back down the hallway, this time to the staff room.

* * *

It’s only a day later when Ross sees the man again. But this time it isn’t in the lobby.

Ross had thought that it was late enough to lock the door out to the pool, since for some reason his brain told him that there surely wouldn’t be any guests still using it at twenty minutes to midnight. So Ross strolls out into the heat of the night. There are only two wall lights pointing towards the eight-shaped pool and small side hot tub. The rest of the lights are either in the pool or on the cement surrounding it. Ross stops in front of the towel holder and looks out at the beach not too far away, and to the ocean. There’s a breeze, but it’s still dreadfully hot. He’s not much of a fan of swimming, but the dark water looks invitingly cool. It had been a long day filled with seemingly endless problems, the exact opposite of the day before. He’s ready to lock up and go home.

He gathers the few wet towels from the basket. Ross is just thinking about what to get to eat on the way home when the sound of a cough from behind startles him. He whips around, a little too fast for his liking. The man standing before him is about the same height, and it takes Ross only a moment to figure out that it’s the same man from the yesterday.

“Yes?” is Ross’ automatic response, and he flinches a little at how high his voice sounds. Quickly he adds, “Is there anything I can get you?”

The man holds up a soggy towel, and it’s then that Ross realizes the man is only in a pair of swim trunks. Ross blinks a few times before he reaches out and takes it. It requires every fiber of his being _not_ to look the man over. He keeps his eyes forward and puts on a smile. He’s just about the say thank you when the man turns from him and walks towards the door. Ross is left standing alone, feeling somehow thrown off. He looks back out at the ocean and the tiredness that he has been experiencing is washed away.

* * *

“I think you fancy him,” Alex says, and shoves another fry into his mouth. They’re in the staff room on break, and Alex had been a pal and went and bought them some McDonalds. 

“I think I’m just _bored_ ,” Ross says, as honest as he can.

“Mate, you just said that you’ve been thinking a lot about that guy from the lobby and how yesterday you ran into him, all wet from the pool. That isn’t just being _bored_.”

Ross sighs. “This is your fault. I could have been at home instead.”

“Doing what, sitting in front of a TV all day? This way you get to make some cash, and spend time with me.” Alex grins, then takes a sip from his coke. “I know you love me.”

Ross chokes a little on his burger. After he recovers he says, “We broke up a month ago.”

“So what?”

Alex doesn’t need to say more. Ross knows that Alex is just being pouty. It had ended over a stupid, trivial fight, and he was sure that Alex would have come apologizing and begging to get back together. But he hadn’t, and Ross suspected that they both didn’t want to admit they had been wrong. Still, they were close, and he loved Alex. But who would have thought that being in a relationship required a lot of energy? More so than he was willing to try to put in at the moment. They’d still remained close after that, possibly even closer, somehow.

“Anyways,” Ross says, “I might find him attractive, but I don’t think it’s healthy to lust after the guests.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Alex’s grin widens. He leans over the table. “I have enough wank material to last me for weeks.”

“What, have you been taking pictures of people or something? I’m pretty sure that’s illegal.”

“No, you fucking pervert. I have a good memory for faces and an overactive imagination.”

“Ah, I see.” Ross hides his smile behind a napkin as he dabs it on his lips.

“Oh yeah, you know Trott from security?” Alex asks, suddenly.

“The really short guy?”

“Yeah. I asked him out. Said he has to think about it, but I’m like, ninety-five percent sure he’s going to say yes.”

Ross’ eyes widen. “Damn. You just looking to hook up with him?”

Alex shrugs. He dips a fry into some ketchup. “Dunno yet. We’ll see where it goes.”

Ross doesn’t push for more. He knows he could say that he’s happy for Alex, or all kinds of other things, but his thoughts are still distracted. Besides, Alex can do whatever he wants. Ross looks up at the clock on the wall. “Break’s almost over.” He gathers up his garbage and stands.

“Talk to you later?” Alex asks.

“Of course,” Ross says.

* * *

When it’s almost eleven thirty and the moon is out, Ross checks on the pool towels. This time he notices the man right away. Ross is quiet as he opens the door, glancing over to the hot tub. The man is again the only one outside, sitting with his arms up over the edge of the tub, head tipped back and eyes closed. Ross allows himself to stare for a minute. The jets are on in the hot tub, creating a low rumble and small, frequent splashes. Ross hopes that the man hasn’t fallen asleep.

Ross takes care of the towels slowly, hoping that the man will leave before midnight. He busies himself with a little restocking as the clock slowly ticks over. Once it’s a few minutes after the designated closing time, Ross goes back outside.

He’s still there, seemingly unmoved.

Ross takes a deep breath. He runs absent hands over his shirt and steps around the edge of the pool. At the hot tub, he debates on the best approach to the situation. He was hoping to have as minimal contact as possible with this person, but something in the universe must be against him. Ross very lightly clears his throat.

Nothing.

Ross tries again, just a tad louder, but still the man remains unmoved. There’s a tug of panic in his chest. What if the man had a heart attack or a stroke or something? What if he’s… Ross crouches down and stares for a good long moment at the top of the man’s chest that’s not underwater. He's pretty sure it’s moving, which is a great sign and it helps to calm his rapidly beating heart. Still, Ross wonders what he should do. Say something? Or give him a shake?

Finally Ross decides to go with the latter. He reaches out and gently touches the man’s shoulder.

The man’s eyes snap open and Ross pulls his hand away. He straightens up, an awkward feeling settling over him. “Um, it’s past midnight.” For good measure he adds, “The pool’s closed now.”

The man gives a yawn and a stretch. Ross stares at him almost dumbly, knowing he should quickly walk away and wait inside. But he can’t help how his feet seem glued to the cement. He realizes he must be waiting for some form of response.

“Thanks,” the man says.

Ross thinks it’s a pleasant sounding voice, slightly rough from sleep but with an edge of lightness to it. Ross keeps his eyes fixed on the man’s chest as he stands, water sliding down his skin, drops clinging to sparse hair. He’d swear later that he had no control over the way his eyes had taken a hurried glimpse at the man’s swim trunks, a form fitting dark blue pair that went down to just above his knees.

“No problem,” Ross says, much too late.

The man remains motionless in the hot tub. Ross finally understands that he’s been literally _staring_ at a stranger’s almost naked body for probably a full minute. Ross can’t stop the heat that gathers in his face, and he’s thankful for the low yellow lighting.

Ross takes a small step back, meets the other’s eyes, and says automatically, “Is there anything I can get you?” He’s become so accustomed to saying it that he thinks that maybe now isn’t the right time to be doing so, but it’s a little late to take it back.

The man lifts a leg over the edge of the hot tub and steps out instead of taking the stairs. He’s in front of Ross now, and Ross feels rather intimidated all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know why. The feeling increases tenfold as the man leans in closer to him and lifts a hand. For a brief moment Ross thinks that he is going to be grabbed. But the man only picks up his keycard from the little table behind Ross, and holds it up between his fingers.

The man’s still close when he says, “Maybe there is.” He glances down very briefly, and Ross knows it’s at his slightly parted lips. Ross thinks licking them would be a mistake and so his tongue does it, darts out to wet them. The man looks back up at Ross’ eyes and Ross is definitely sure that’s an eyebrow raise he sees.

But then the man turns around and heads for the door. Ross watches him pick up a towel and wipe down his legs and feet before setting it in the collection bin. He doesn’t give any looks back, just slides his card and enters the hotel.

Ross’ body goes slack, and he’s surprised at how tense he had been a moment ago. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He rotates just enough so that he can see the ocean. The moon is right above it, almost full, its glowing reflection quivering slightly on the lazy waves. “Maybe?” Ross says aloud, the words finally rolling into focus. He doesn’t understand at all.

But when he’s finally driving home, it hits him like a brick through a window.

Ross thinks that perhaps this is what flirting with a stranger is.

* * *

It’s too early, and Ross doesn’t understand why he had to come in at the ungodly hour of seven AM, but here he is. Alex is here too, once again at the front desk, this time playing spider solitaire. Ross sits in a chair next to him, half asleep. He’s _not_ a morning person. At all.

“Guess what,” Alex says.

“Hm?” Ross can’t be bothered with words right now. He wishes he wasn’t so sick of coffee. He could really go for a big cup of it.

“Trott said yes. We have a date this weekend.”

“Hm.” Ross tries to make his voice sound approving, but he’s sure it doesn’t work because Alex turns to him.

“You even awake?”

“Sure,” Ross manages, eyes fluttering open. He tries to focus on the people in the lobby chatting and eating breakfast.

“Go lock yourself in a supply room for a few hours. If anyone asks I’ll say I don’t know where you are.”

“I think I might actually do that.” Ross excuses himself and tries to stay awake as he makes his way to the elevator. He knows the perfect room. It’s on the top floor, the tenth, and it’s at the very end of the hall, tucked away. The cleaners won’t be doing rooms until another hour, so Ross has time.

The elevator dings and opens, inside empty. Ross gets in and hits the button for the tenth floor. Since he’s the only one going up, it doesn’t make any stops. Once at the top, the bell dings again, and when the doors slide open he’s almost too sleepy to notice that a familiar face is standing in front of him on the other side, dressed in a wrinkleless full suit and tie, briefcase in hand.

Ross’ mind snaps awake in an instant. He’s sure he looks stupid, staring wide eyed like he is. But the man just gives him a modest smile and moves to the side. Ross takes a second to gather himself and almost trips as he exits the elevator. He mumbles a hasty ‘sorry’ before scurrying away, going the complete opposite direction he needs to. He _thinks_ he hears an amused hum, but he keeps walking.

By the time he’s at the other end, Ross realizes he isn’t tired anymore. He presses the back of his hand against his cheek and wonders why the fuck he feels like a teenager crushing hard. The man has probably seen right through his weak attempts to hide it and is having a good laugh about it. But then Ross remembers what the man had said the other night –the whole ‘maybe’ thing. That meant something, right? Or was he just overanalyzing things?

Ross turns around and makes it to the supply closet. He sits on the floor and does some more over analyzing.

* * *

By the time four o’clock rolls around, Ross knows he has to go restock the drinks by the pool door. He fills his arms with cups, a filter, and powdered coffee. Ross just makes it to the table and sets the things down when the door to the outdoor pool opens. He doesn’t bother looking, wanting to quickly change the filter and get the new pot started.

He feels someone step up next to him, and Ross, as a human, naturally glances at who it is. He swears his heart jumps when he sees it’s the man, and he’s really starting to get annoyed that he doesn’t have a name for the stranger.

“Excuse me,” Ross says, as politely as he can manage. “Coffee’ll only take a second.”

“You’re good. I hate the stuff.” The man picks up a cup and pours out the last of the apple juice. He brings the cup to his lips and takes a sip. He motions towards the pool. “Meeting got out early. Thought I’d try to tan this pasty skin a little bit.”

Ross roves his eyes over the man, taking in his unbuttoned Hawaiian shirt covered in bright pineapples and hibiscus flowers, the bottoms the same swim trunks from last night. A pair of sunglasses are perched on top of his head. Ross’ mind gives a thumbs up, but he can’t exactly put that into action without looking like an idiot. So instead he gives a shy smile and says, “It’s a good day for it. Just don’t get burnt.” He has the sudden urge to fill the space between them with words, to not let the conversation die. He adds, “If you need any sunscreen, I can get some. I have to go back to the supply room anyways.” But then that just sounds weird to him, and Ross tries his best not to frown.

The man hums around the cup at his lips before he lowers it. “Got any tanning oil instead?”

Ross doesn’t know why, but the question sounds _dirty_ to him. Like it’s some secret, like it _means_ much more than it realistically does. He swallows hard and drops the old filter into the trash bin next to the table. “I can check,” he manages to force out. He picks up the empty juice jug. Again, as he has his back to the man, he imagines he’s being laughed at in some way. Is he being toyed with now, teased? Or is it all just in his head?

Ross wants to give his face a smack, but he keeps his hands at his sides as he makes it back to the supply room. He rummages through the boxes on the shelves, but all he can find is lotion and body wash. He gives up, fearing he’s taking too long, and swings by the kitchen to get more apple juice. As fast as he can without looking like he’s in a hurry, Ross returns to the pool hallway. The man is still there, looking out the glass door.

He sets the juice down. “Sorry,” he says, feeling like he failed in some way. “No tanning oil. But if you need any extra shampoo, let me know.”

“Don’t sweat it,” the man says, smiling, and the smile looks open and cheerful, nothing sneaky about it, and it soothes Ross, helps to put his overheating mind on ice, filling his head with steam. The man looks at Ross, brown eyes shining with a glint of _something_ that Ross has no idea what is. “Name’s Chris, by the way.” He stretches out a hand.

Ross doesn’t hesitate in taking it, although his own hand is grossly warm and probably a little wet from carrying the juice. The hand he grips is firm and cool, and it has the practiced ease of giving a business-like shake to his own. Chris. He _finally_ has a name. They let go a moment later and he says, “Ross.” He doesn’t know if he should offer more, but it appears to be enough because Chris nods.

“See you around, Ross,” Chris says, and sets his empty cup on the table before he heads out the door, back to the pool area.

It’s a lot to take in, and Ross is thankful that it’s almost time for a break. He cleans up the table, not really caring how it looks, and makes his way to the staff room. He sits in one of the chairs, leg bouncing something fierce. He tries to tell himself that he’s just making a new friend, nothing more. There’s nothing more to this, nothing more to shaking Chris’ hand or that fucking _maybe there is_ that keeps endlessly running around his head, taunting him. The words kick at his brain, and then whisper lowly to him that _yes, there is something you can do for me_ and it’s not anything he should even consider, because that’s not what employees should do, not how they should be thinking about guests.

The door opens with a bang, and Ross just about has a heart attack. He catches Alex’s eyes and takes in the confused look.

“You all right?” he asks. Ross balks. His instinct is to lie but he knows that Alex would see right through it. He wrings his hands together and bites at his lip. Alex sits in a chair next to him. “Go on, what happened.”

“I _talked_ to him. Chris.”

Alex looks genuinely startled. “Whoa, what? Chris? You mean Chris Trott from security?”

“Huh? No, I mean the _guy_. His name is Chris and we had a fucking conversation.” Ross pauses, more words setting on the end of his tongue, wanting to jump off. He closes his mouth and waits.

“Oh. Oh, man, that’s… intense. What’d you guys talk about?”

Ross can’t stop himself from going into detail, now that Alex has asked. “That he hates coffee, that he’s trying to tan, that he’s probably here on business of some sort, that his name is Chris, and that he looks really fucking good in those ugly Hawaiian shirts.” Ross covers his face with his hands. “Help me,” is the muffled plea.

There’s a hand on his back, warm and strong and familiar. Ross peeks at Alex through his fingers.

“You want my honest advice?” Alex asks.

“Yes, please.” Ross knows he could count on his best friend.

“Go after him, with everything you’ve got stocked in the Ross Hornby Arsenal of Seduction.”

Ross doesn’t know whether to cry or laugh. He settles for a mixture of both, and Alex points out that he sounds like some strange bird, which only makes him laugh/cry louder.

“You,” Ross breathes eventually, wiping at his eyes, “are an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse,” Alex says with a shrug.

Ross becomes serious, then. “I don’t know. I think it’s a bad idea to try to get involved with someone who’s just here for maybe a week.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “What, you not into one night stands?”

“It’s not that,” Ross says, truthfully. “I just… don’t know where to even begin, if I did try.”

“Mate. I know _I_ was the one who asked you out, but it was pretty obvious how much you were into me. I could practically feel the thirstiness radiating off of you.”

Ross gives Alex’s shoulder a swift punch. “Fuck off. If anyone was thirsty it was _you._ ”

“Ya got me there,” Alex says, grinning. He props his chin on his hand. “You’re fun to mess with. Use that to your advantage.”

“What?” Ross doesn’t like when Alex is vague. “Explain.”

“You know, just be _you_. Act all innocent and aloof and stuff. I mean, I don’t think you have to try too hard. Go into this as though you’re a virgin girl or something.”

“That’s pretty rude,” Ross says, but he thinks he understands what Alex is trying to say. It’s all starting to slot into place in his head, all starting to make this little plan, one that’s not entirely acceptable, but Ross has a sense of determination that gathers in his chest. Bit by bit he convinces himself that trying to hit on a visiting businessman is a great idea and maybe he can get something out of it.

Or it could go horribly wrong. He tries not to think about that, though.

* * *

All day Thursday Ross prepares himself, even though he knows that it’s wasted energy trying to come up with interesting topics to talk about. He’s naturally able to hold conversations with just about anyone, so he shouldn’t worry. But so far every time he has encountered Chris, his mind had blanked and resorted to its default setting. It would possibly help to be ready, although he isn’t sure when the opportunity is going to happen.

The manager tells him to change the pool and hot tub water filters. Ross says he doesn’t know how, but apparently it’s very easy.

He waits until it’s about time for the pool to close. With new filters in his hands, he enters the pool area. There are a few teenagers by the stairs splashing each other, and in the deepest part of the pool is Chris, doing laps. Ross slows as he walks to the small utility shed against the side of the hotel that houses the filtration system. He watches Chris until the man spots him and lifts a hand in greeting. Ross gives a wave in return.

He unlocks the door, flicks on the light, and makes sure to turn the system off. The space is fairly cramped. There are two separate filtering units next to each other, and Ross has no idea how to get the old filters out. He crouches down and looks them over for instructions. There are only caution signs. How is this easy? Ross is ready to go back and tell the manager that he’s going to need some clear directions to get this done, but then he feels someone come up behind him. Ross turns, wondering if it might be the manager herself, or Alex. But standing behind him fresh from the pool is Chris, his hair slicked back, shorts dripping water onto the pavement.

Ross tries to ground himself. It helps that he’s near to the actual ground.

“Filter changing?” Chris asks.

“Trying to,” Ross answers, coolly. He mentally pats himself on the back for keeping it together. “I’ve never done this, though, so I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for. There must be a latch around the back I’m missing.” Ross once again runs his hands around the bottom lip, desperately trying to not look like a total fool.

He’s practically hugging the round filter canister, and Chris crouches down next to him. The man sets his hand on a completely opposite container. 

“I think this one is the actual filter. That one looks more like a heater for the hot tub.”

Ross lets it go, realizing that it had been strangely warm. He watches as Chris runs his hand down the side of the container until he bumps into something that looks suspiciously like a handle. He turns it to the side, then pulls up. The whole covering comes with and what’s revealed looks a lot like a filter.

Ross is, frankly, amazed. “How’d you know that one was it?”

Chris shrugs, and takes out the soggy, dirty filter. “I worked as a janitor. I’ve seen my fair share of filters before.” He holds it out for Ross to take.

“Well, thank you. It probably would have taken me an hour to find the right handle.” Ross takes it and swaps it for the new one, which Chris fits into place.

“Give yourself some credit. I’m sure you would have figured it out within a few minutes.”

Ross doesn’t know about that, but he smiles anyways. “What about the other one?”

“Right here,” Chris says, and taps the tank on his right. This one’s handle is hidden behind it, but Chris finds it no problem and a minute later the filters are both changed.

Ross picks up the old filters and stands. He hits the switch for the system and it reboots. “Thanks again.” He doesn’t really know what else to say. Is it an appropriate time to just randomly switch topics? Ross keeps his mouth shut.

Chris rises to eye level and leads the way out of the shed. “It was nothing.”

Ross closes the door. To Ross’ surprise, Chris trails after him as he heads inside to throw away the filters. They take up a lot of space in the small trash bin next to the drinks table, and Ross regrets putting them in there. He ties off the bag and picks it up. Then he stands stiffly, thinking that he should say goodnight or something like that, and be on his way.

But there’s something in the back of his mind that pushes its way out. It’s the perfect opportunity. A setup had happened without him even catching on until now. He can do this.

“So, uh,” Ross stumbles on his words, and wants nothing more than to bite his tongue, but he continues on. “Can I buy you drink? Just as a thanks, I mean. The bar across from here has margarita specials on Thursday. Not that you have to get one of those, of course.” Ross seriously wants to kick himself. What the fuck kind of fumbling was _that?_

Chris’ laugh is gentle, and not at all like Ross had been imagining. “Sure, why not.”

The words fill Ross up, turns his self-deprecating into a sort of proud arrogance and he _almost_ smirks, but he catches himself and instead puts on his best smile, eyes squinting and everything.

“I’ll wait for you in the lobby,” Ross says, and Chris gives a nod.

Ross watches him round the corner to the elevator. He holds his breath and listens for the ding. Once he’s sure Chris is gone, he sighs loudly. He’s done it. In a completely unexpected turn of events, he’s managed to find the courage to ask a stranger out for a drink. A very attractive stranger that didn’t even turn him down. Ross wants to skip all the way to the supply room, but he manages to keep himself under control. After he gets rid of the filters, he stops by the bathroom and tries to make himself as presentable as possible. He wishes he had a change of clothes, but he doesn’t look half bad. Ross tries to spike up his somewhat deflated hair and finger combs his mustache.

Once he’s in the lobby, his hands itch to take out his phone, to text Alex. But he doesn’t. He can’t, not yet. There’s still a chance something lousy could happen. So he sits in a chair with crossed arms and waits, mind once again trying to be helpful and think of foolproof ideas for the little outing. He hasn’t been on a date in a while, and the last ones with Alex were like he was hanging out with a friend. This is completely new, a different thing altogether. Ross is worried that he might say something ridiculous, but thinks that the alcohol will help take off his edge.

Fifteen minutes later and Chris arrives, dressed casually in a plain gray T-shirt and khaki shorts. Ross stands, and they walk outside together. For once it’s cool out, a comfortable temperature. Ross thinks that in one more day the moon will be completely full. They wait for a car to pass before stepping out onto the street and crossing. They are close enough to almost touch shoulders, and when the breeze shifts against their backs, Ross can smell the heady scent of Chris’ cologne, a sharp, woody musk that has a hint of citrus to it. It makes him a bit dizzy.

The bar has a distinct tiki theme, and on the inside it is lit lowly with pufferfish hanging lights. There are only a few people seated at the long counter, and Chris leads Ross to a booth for two that’s a bit out of the way, but is clearly visible to the exit. Ross wonders if it’s intentional, but he’s probably just overanalyzing again.

They sit, and Ross picks at his nails under the table. He looks around the room, trying to appear interested in the décor. Each second that passes has his skin prickling. Maybe he can’t do this after all. Ross is ready to call it quits but then the bartender comes over and asks what they’d like.

“Margarita. Blended,” Ross says, and it sounds a little rough to him, a little mean, even.

“Make it two,” Chris says.

The bartender leaves, and Ross is left alone, facing Chris, unable to make eye contact with the stranger _he_ asked out because his brain decided that it would be a wonderful thing to do.

“You okay? You seem a little tense.”

Ross blinks, and looks at the wall on his right, at a picture of some palm trees. He knows he can lie, and he _wants_ to lie, to pull the ‘oh everything is fine, I just had a long day’ card. But that kind of conversation will get him nowhere. So Ross lets his shoulders sag. “I guess I am,” he confesses. “I haven’t been out like this since… well, since my last relationship.” But then it feels wrong, like he shouldn’t have mentioned that, that maybe Chris will find him whiny or annoying, or label him as one of _those_ types of people.

Chris hums, and rests his arms on the table top. “How long ago was that?” He sounds interested.

Ross _really_ doesn’t want to keep this going. “Around a month or so.”

“Then it’s about time you got out again,” Chris says.

Ross tentatively meets his eyes. What to say to that? Chris seems to be understanding enough, which helps to hush Ross’ scrambling thoughts. The bartender returns with their drinks, and Ross busies himself with opening a straw. He shoves it in and quickly sucks at it, desperate to get some alcohol in his system, hoping it’ll lift his mood in some way. All it does is give him instant brain-freeze. He needs to keep this simple, keep it casual.

“The other day you said something about a meeting?” Ross asks.

“Yeah,” Chris says. He jabs his own straw into the icy drink. “I’m here on business, at the convention center. Lots of boring meetings about stock prices and how the industry can expand itself, that kind of bull. It’s mandatory though, and there’s no way out of it. It’s why I’m always at the pool so late. Meetings usually run until nine, and then I get something to eat before having a soak.” Chris pauses to take a sip. “I’m only here until Sunday, though, which is a shame. If I didn’t have to go back to the office I’d stay for another week. Haven’t been able to go down to the beach yet.”

Ross nods, chewing on his straw. He thinks that Chris might have had time to go to the beach on Wednesday when he instead was using the pool and having his very first conversation with Ross. But Ross doesn’t mention any of that. Instead he says, “I guess the beach is okay. Just a bunch of sand and some salty water, really.” He feels a small spike of dread kick at his stomach. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t insult something you’re looking forward to. That was…” _dumb of me, really fucking dumb of me, not to mention inconsiderate-_

“You’re right,” Chris says, and Ross is confused. “Fuck the beach. I had an ex once who wanted to have sex on it. I told them no way, I don’t want sand is every damn crevice of my body. Apparently a towel is sufficient enough, but I didn’t want to take any chances.”

Ross finds himself smiling, a little less tense. “Yeah, it seems like sand would be unavoidable. Why do people want to do it?”

“Cause it’s ‘romantic’ or some crap. How sand in your ass is romantic, I’ll never know.” Chris wraps a hand around his glass and raises it up towards Ross. “To us, for being smart enough to never want to fuck on the beach.”

Ross hits his glass into Chris’, then pushes the straw aside as he gulps down the slushy alcohol. The taste of lime and tequila hit the back of his throat and despite its coolness, it warms him up. He sets the glass down, half gone, and sees Chris grinning at him. He feels… better. Much more comfortable, more confident. More like himself.

Chris puts him through a series of laidback questions, like where he’s from and why he’s working at the hotel, what he likes to do on weekends. Before Ross knows it, he’s on his fifth margarita and feeling _too good_. He has a permanent smile on his lips, and is starting to get a bit giggly. Why had he felt so scared before, so intimidated by this guy? Chris is a lot like Ross, only somewhat older and with a stable job.

Ross has learned only a little about Chris –that he’s a handful of years older than Ross, that he’s actually a pretty avid gamer, that he doesn’t like cats, that he’s vegetarian, that his nickname is Sips. Just small bits and pieces that sort of fit together, but at the moment Ross is drunk, and he suspects Chris is too. But his face doesn’t really show it. He seems exceedingly level-headed the more he drinks, and Ross doesn’t understand how it’s possible.

Ross, flush-faced and much too warm, undoes the top few buttons of his shirt, hoping it will help. He runs his hand over the condensation of his glass, then presses it to his forehead, soaking in the coolness of it, even though it only lasts a couple seconds. He shifts back with a sigh, feet knocking into Chris’. Ross flicks his eyes across the table, his rocking mind telling him to make this into a challenge or something smart like that. Chris looks right back at him.

“Had enough yet? I think you’re pretty wasted,” Chris says. He points at Ross’ glass. “Finish that and we can go.”

“Go where?” Ross blurts. There’s only a twinge of nervousness left in him, and even that’s slowing fading.

“Back to the hotel.”

Ross waits for a moment, sits up. He leans forward, sticks out his tongue and chases his straw. Once he catches it he glances up at Chris. He doesn’t think he’s ever been good at giving sexual looks, but he tries his hardest. After he sucks the rest of the margarita down, he releases the straw, and folds his hands under his chin, elbows on the table. “To your room?” he tries, voice low. He thinks it sounds pretty damn good, maybe even sexy.

“I’d gladly invite you up, but I have a meeting in,” Chris stops, and takes his phone out of his pocket, “five hours.”

“Oh,” Ross mumbles, disappointment clear. He shrugs. “It’s cool.”

“Should I call you a cab?”

“Naw, I got a buddy who’ll get me.” Ross knows that Alex will get him, though he might owe him later.

Ross digs in his pockets and throws an assortment of bills on the table. Then his taps at his phone, happy that autocorrect is a thing that exists as he shoots Alex a text. Once done, he drums his fingers on the table, suddenly feeling quite tired.

“C’mon, let’s wait outside,” Chris says, and stands.

They make it out, Ross somehow managing not to trip over his own feet, and stand against the front wall, overlooking the street. Ross squints at the yellow lights, but breathes deep, thankful to be where it’s much colder.

Chris stands next to him, and Ross leans to the right, touching their shoulders. He could fall asleep right there, with his hands in his pockets, head drooping a bit, eyes almost closed.

“You can go back to the hotel,” Ross finds himself mumbling. He’s not sure if he said it out loud, but apparently he did, because Chris answers him.

“What if I want to keep you company?”

Ross thinks that this has got to be flirting, in some way. Maybe he shouldn’t have had that fifth margarita. He forces his head up and opens his eyes as much as he can, looks at Chris, at the profile of his face. Ross takes a hand out of his pocket, knows that he shouldn’t, and reaches up. His phone buzzes against his thigh. Ross hesitates, but brings his hand back down. It’s a new message from Alex saying he’ll be there soon. Ross wants to text back that it’s not a good thing to text and drive but he decides he can tell Alex later.

It’s quiet between them. Ross wishes he had some water. He’s going to have to come back early with Alex and get his car from the hotel, even though he wasn’t supposed to come in until later. Ross sighs, much louder than he wants to. Chris gives his shoulder a push with his own.

“You okay?” he asks.

“I’m good,” Ross says, because he is. This time he really is. Then he turns fully, hand bracing on the wall, and catches Chris’ eyes. “Can I have your number?”

Chris holds out his hand, and Ross eagerly gives over the phone. When Chris hands it back, Ross sees that he’s put in his contact information as _Chris Lovasz (Sips)_. Ross finds it extremely endearing for no reason. “I already texted myself,” Chris says. “So I have yours too.”

Ross nods, heart giving a fluttering beat. He’s done it. He wants to hug Chris, and he almost does, but Alex’s car drives in front of them, coming to a stop.

Chris places a hand on Ross’ lower back, and he can feel the heat of it, the gentle press. It slides up, just a fraction. Chris steps closer to Ross, leans in next to his ear. “See you later, loverboy,” he says, and then he’s moving away, lifting a hand in a wave and stepping across the street.

Ross stands, holding the handle, watching Chris’ back. Alex rolls the window down.

“Gonna get in or chase after him?”

He seriously considers it… or as seriously as he can while drunk. But Ross shakes his head and opens the car door. He sits down and buckles his seatbelt.

Alex drums his fingers along the steering wheel. Ross closes his eyes. “Thanks for the ride,” he says.

“Anything for you, babe,” Alex says, rolling his eyes. He shifts the car into gear.

* * *

Ross is grateful that Alex takes care of him. He always has, and probably always will. Still, no amount of ibuprofen can prepare him for going to work with Alex, hours later. He is told by a few coworkers that he looks rough, and Ross is definitely feeling like trash. Yet, he is insanely gleeful, even lively.

It’s busy at the front, so Ross lets Alex do his thing and goes off in search of supply rooms to straighten and restock. He hums various songs, smiles a little _too_ joyfully. But really, he can’t help himself.

It’s how he finds himself stopping in the hallway and pulling out his phone. He taps at Chris’ contact and opens a new conversation. His thumbs hover over the keys.

Ross frowns. His mood pops like an overfilled balloon. What is he _doing?_ What, does he think he can just text Chris ‘good morning’ or ‘last night was great’ or some shit like that? He supposes he can, but then… Ross bites his lip and steps backwards into the wall, staring at his phone. He refuses to be _that_ person, to show how eager he is.

And just when Ross is going to put his phone away, it buzzes in his hand. It’s from Chris. Ross holds his breath.

_How you holding up? Not too hungover, I hope._

He’s… concerned. For him. Ross breathes again, slowly out, then back in.

 _I’m pretty great, actually,_ Ross types. _Just a bit of a headache._ Should he add more? Ross thinks that maybe he should. Probably. _You in a meeting?_ He hits send, even though he doesn’t really like that last part.

Ross is able to make it to the next supply room before his phone goes off again.

_We’re on a quick break. Thought I’d check in with you._

He stares at the message. It reminds him of Tuesday, when Chris had gotten out of the hot tub and told him ‘maybe there is’. It’s suddenly all he can think about. How could he have almost forgotten about it, something so important? Ross wants to ask about it, wants to try to weasel the answer from Chris. But is that too pushy, too demanding? Ross really wishes he could make up his fucking mind and stop feeling like he’s on a boat in the middle of the ocean during a storm. It’s driving him crazy.

 _Thanks, I appreciate it._ Ross sends it before he can add a stupid smiley face.

The reply is, _No problem ;)_ and Ross regrets not adding the stupid smiley face.

* * *

“It’s time to officially spill the beans, Ross,” Alex says. He tosses a bag of McDonalds at Ross as they sit down for lunch break.

“Only if you tell me why you were awake at two this morning.”

Alex huffs. “I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned that. Fine. I was texting Chris. _My_ Chris. He has some ridiculous hours and is usually up while everyone is asleep, so I was… keeping him company.” Alex nonchalantly unwraps his chicken sandwich and shoves it into his mouth. Ross knows his game. If he’s busy chewing he can’t talk.

“Sure,” Ross agrees. “And I was just on a _date_ … well, I guess it _was_ a date.”

“What do you mean, guess?” Alex says after he swallows. “You went to a bar and got drunk with the guy, yeah? Sounds like a date to me.”

Ross picks at a piece of lettuce. “We _did_ talk about ourselves a bit. I think I tried to flirt with him. It’s hard to remember much, I drank a lot of margaritas.”

“Don’t give me that shit. You always remember things, I’d say even better when you’re drunk.”

“Okay, jeez. We exchanged numbers, but that’s it! We didn’t like, give each other a goodnight kiss or anything…” Ross had only kind of, sort of been hoping for one. He isn’t mad about it, though.

“ _Only_ exchanged numbers. You’ve known him for what, four days? That’s making some fast progress. I’m actually proud of you.” Alex points to his milkshake. “I’ll let you have a sip of this as a reward for coming out of your shell and learning how to be a big boy.”

“No thanks,” Ross says flatly. “I don’t think it’s that much of a big deal. He’s only here until Sunday-”

“What!” Alex interrupts. “Then you have to make your move as soon as possible! Or are you happy just staying texting buddies?”

Ross licks the salt from his lips, thinking. He does find Chris to be an interesting person. Even though he’s just met him, even though he just knows the bare basics about the guy, he still wants to know more. And then there is the devil on his shoulder, whispering into his ear about how _yeah_ , he’d loved to get to _know_ him more. Like what Chris looks like naked. The tips of Ross’ ears turn red and he quickly stuffs some fries into his mouth. He only has a couple days left. Is Chris leaving it up to him to make a move? Ross is stressing himself out something fierce.

“You having an internal meltdown?” Alex asks, not sounding concerned.

“Something like that,” Ross says. “I just… don’t know how to ask a stranger if they’re down to fuck.”

Alex grins. “Just text them ‘dtf’ and I’m pretty sure you’ll get a positive response.”

“This isn’t _you_ we’re talking about.”

“Sadly, you’re right.” Alex hums, then snaps his fingers. “I got it. Show up to his room tonight. I can look on the computer and see what one he’s staying in. Or better yet, I can get you a key. You can wait on the bed. Think of how hilarious his face would be!”

Ross feels his eyebrow twitch. “I’m not trying to pull some prank.” Though he does find it a bit amusing. But still, that’s taking it too far. “Showing up to his room isn’t a bad idea, but I feel like it would be too forward.”

“Um, that’s exactly what you want to be going for. You already went on a date, so I’m pretty sure he’s into you. Hell, who wouldn’t jump at the chance to bang Ross Hornby? Just look at you.”

“Please, stop inflating my ego,” Ross says, making a show of rolling his eyes. He smiles. “Do you think he’s actually into me?”

“Mate.” Alex reaches across the table and sets his hand over top Ross’ own. “I’m like… seventy percent sure he’s into you.”

“…And the other thirty percent?”

“He just wants to be friends.”

Ross pulls his hand away. “That makes me feel _so_ much better.”

“Ross, come _on_. I’m just messing with you. Hasn’t he done or said anything that suggests he likes you in a more sexual way?”

 _Maybe there is_ , Ross thinks.

“Like what?” Alex asks.

Ross blinks. Had he just said that out loud? He must have. Well, shit. “I don’t know for sure. But… I think I should try to find out.”

Alex smiles. “That’s the Ross I know and love. Go out there and get him, tiger.”

Ross feels himself waver, if only for a moment. But he stays strong. He’s made up his mind that it’s time to come to a conclusion. He _needs_ to know what Chris meant. But he isn’t just going to show up at his door or sneak into Chris’ room. No, he’s going to do it _his_ way.

* * *

The rest of the day Ross keeps to himself. He doesn’t text Chris anymore, even though he wants to. He goes about doing his job at the hotel, keeping as busy as he can. One of the cleaners asks him to help her move some heavier furniture around, and he gladly accepts. It takes his mind off of Chris, if only for a little while.

When it’s nine-thirty, he finally gives in. He shoves himself into a supply room and takes out his phone, opens it up to Chris. He has to just go for it. Time is running out, and yeah, he’s scared of being rejected, but he’ll never know unless he tries.

_Are you free tomorrow night?_

Ross doesn’t add any more to it. He wants to possibly say that there are no hard feelings if Chris isn’t, that it’s okay with him if Chris is planning to hang out with business buddies. Ross squeezes his phone hard as he waits. His stomach twists around, and he tries to tell himself that it doesn’t matter, that there will be other chances like these in his life. He’s young, attractive, he could go after someone else if this doesn’t work out-

His phone buzzing jolts him from his thoughts. Ross slowly slides his finger across the screen and reads the message.

_Definitely free. Wanna come up for pizza around eight? Room 1006._

Ross can’t stop the grin that makes its way onto his face. Why had he bothered to be so anxious before? He just needs to chill out, take things a step at a time and not work himself up so much.

 _Sounds great,_ he writes back. _See you then_.

With a giddy feeling in his chest, Ross texts Alex the good news. His friend’s response is overwhelmingly positive, and the only downside is that Alex says he’s going to be out with Trott, so Ross is only supposed to text him if it’s an emergency. Ross agrees. Both of them have dates, and hopefully they’ll go fantastically. Ross wants nothing more than to get his hopes up and pump himself up for tomorrow night. But he thinks that it’s better to remain just slightly optimistic, in case something comes up.

* * *

Saturday night rolls around and Ross is able to get off an hour before he has to be over at Chris’. He had easily coerced his manager into letting him go early (really all he had to do was bat his eyelashes and smile) so he went home to preen.

He pays extra attention to his hair after a shower, making sure it’s spiked just right. He tidies up his goatee, and then takes his most expensive bottle of cologne, the one reserved for _special_ nights, and dabs it around. Ross puts on his favorite Superdry shirt, a well-worn gray one that’s gone all soft after being washed so many times, along with his nicest jeans.

Ross stares at himself in the mirror for far too long, not really seeing, mainly just thinking. He’s never planned on having a one night fling with someone. He picks up his wallet and inside finds a condom he’s had in there for far too long. He throws it into the trash bin, and sighs. Would replacing it even matter? What if he’s just going over to hang out with Chris? They’d eat pizza, maybe see what crap television was on, and just have a nice time. He’s tempted to bring some beer, simply as a courtesy. Ross is about to text Chris what kind of beer he likes, when a message from Alex pops up. It says _good luck_.

It gives him some strength, some peace of mind, knowing that Alex will be there for him no matter what.

Ross decides against the beer. He doesn’t want to be intoxicated at all… Although if Chris offers him something he won’t decline.

“Right,” he says to his mirror self. “I can do this.”

He drives to the hotel, and once inside he takes the elevator to the tenth floor. His confidence is high, and with every step towards the room it rises. Ross stops in front of 1006, and raises his hand. The two knocks he gives are solid. He waits, breathing evenly, perhaps a little too close to the door, but he doesn’t have time to move back because it’s being opened.

Inside is the soft, welcoming glow of hotel lamps, and it puts Ross at ease. Chris comes into vision as the door is opened completely. His eyes travel down Ross, before drifting back up.

“Hey,” Ross tries, voice a little rough. He swallows. Chris is in just a pair of sweats and a _really_ tight, forest green long-sleeved shirt. Who knew something so casual could look so damn good?

Chris doesn’t return his greeting, only steps aside. Ross finds it a little odd, but comes in anyway. He looks around the spacious room, spotting the king sized bed seated against the far wall. A loveseat and coffee table are closest to him. It’s one of the biggest rooms, but not one of the suites. He hears the door click shut behind him, and turns to tell Chris that the room is nice.

Ross is pushed against the door, and the air leaves his lungs from the surprise of it. He barely has time to get his breath back before Chris is kissing him, lips warm and dry and firm. Ross kisses back, but before he’s able to get into it, Chris pulls away.

He stays close to Ross’ face, though. “I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you looking at me in the lobby,” Chris says, and he’s smiling.

“You noticed?” Ross blushes. Well, shit.

“Of course. I’m not blind.”

Ross huffs, but he isn’t mad. In fact, he’s really far from mad. He curls a hand up around the back of Chris’ neck and brings him in again, slotting their lips together. But then Ross remembers that there’s still something he wants answered.

He breaks apart to ask, “The day I woke you up in the hot tub, what did you mean when you said ‘maybe there is’?”

Chris stares at him a moment, probably trying to remember back. Then he lifts a hand and ruffles Ross’ perfectly spiked hair, making a mess of it. “I was pulling your leg, of course, see if I could get a reaction out of you. You just stood there, though, so I thought that you didn’t understand. Good to know that you’ve been thinking about it this whole time.”

Ross purses his lips and squints his eyes. “I knew you had to be messing with me…”

“Hey,” Chris says, and takes a hold of Ross’ chin. “Do you know how hard it’s been to _not_ jump you every time you were around the pool? And when you got drunk at the bar, and you asked to come back here, I almost said yes. It took every ounce of restraint I had.”

“Oh,” is all Ross can say. His mind is busy trying to catch up.

“Yeah, so,” Chris slides his free hand to Ross’ lower back, and slots their bodies against each other. “What do ya say, loverboy? Wanna fuck?”

There’s no hesitation in his voice as Ross says, “Yes.” He’s pretty sure there’s nothing he’s wanted more all summer.

Chris turns them around and walks Ross backwards towards the bed. He gives Ross a nudge, a signal to sit down, then walks across the room to where his suitcase is.

Ross watches him, and it finally sinks in that he’s _doing this_. He doesn’t feel nervous at all, just well and truly turned on. He scoots onto the bed further, and kicks off his shoes. The quiet of the room is interrupted by the sudden startup of the air conditioner underneath the window. Ross looks over at it, but then there’s a touch to his shoulder, and Chris is standing next to the bed, the shiny foil of the condom in his hand catching in the lamplight. He’s also holding a small, clear bottle of lube.

There’s so much space on the bed, and Ross feels small, being in the middle of it. Chris climbs up, setting the things down next to them. He sits on his knees, and to Ross, he looks like a college kid, like _him_ a couple years ago.

Chris kisses Ross again, shutting up his thoughts. It’s especially slow, the slide of their lips, the wet heat of it. Ross feels Chris’ tongue trace his teeth, before his bottom lip is nipped at and _oh_ , is that ever a nice sensation. He smoothes his hands over Chris’ shoulders, along his biceps, liking the solidness of them, how his hands are far from being able to wrap all the way around them.

Ross’ shirt is being tugged up, and he reluctantly lets go of Chris. He’s always been a little shy about his chest, specifically because it doesn’t have much hair. But Chris obviously doesn’t care, because he’s dragging his lips down the side of Ross’ neck, only stopping to bite at his collarbone before going right between his pecs.

His vision tilts, and Ross finds himself staring up at the ceiling, Chris hovering over him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Chris says. Ross takes it as a compliment.

Hands on the front of his jeans, working at the fastening. Ross lifts his hips, and they are pulled off. He lifts his chest up, resting on his elbows, and the coolness of the room finally settles into his skin. He’s naked except for his briefs, cock tenting them something fierce. Ross bites his lip, and meets Chris’ eyes.

They don’t break contact as Chris slides the underwear off. But then Chris looks down, and he whistles lowly. “Damn. Who woulda thought Ross was packin’ heat?”

He isn’t even completely hard yet. A somewhat smug smile tries to make its way onto his face, but he forces it away. Chris palms his cock, like he’s judging the weight of it, and before Ross can even process it, Chris is dipping his head, lips giving the tip a dirty kiss before Ross is engulfed in silky heat. A whine bubbles from his throat and he tilts his head back.

But then Chris is off of him, and Ross looks down, wondering why he stopped.

“These,” Chris says, fingertips pressing into a cluster of freckles on Ross’ hip, “are really fucking adorable.” He touches a mole on his upper thigh. “And _this_ is just sexy.”

Ross feels the flush spread from his face to his chest, heartbeat loud in his ears. He doesn’t know what to say, has never had such meaningless blemishes complimented before. Chris must not be seeking any response, though, because he puts his mouth back on Ross’ cock and _sucks_ , and damn, if they weren’t in a hotel room he’d let himself be loud. It was the one thing he found fault in himself for that Alex has always teased him about, how he had a hard time keeping noises at bay.

He drops back against the bed, biting down on his index finger. He can hear the wet slurping sounds Chris makes as he laps along the shaft of his cock, and it unravels him. Chris kneads at his inner thigh, and Ross spreads his legs. When Chris lets go of his cock, it strains against his stomach, leaking precome. The warmth of Chris is gone, but only for a second before he’s back, fingers slick with lube.

Ross calms his breathing, and brings his legs up, feet flat on the bed. He realizes that his socks are still on, but doesn’t care enough to remove them. A low groan works its way out of his throat as Chris rubs at his entrance. Ross fists his hands into the blanket underneath him. How long had it been? Only a month? It feels like so much longer, the absence of having something inside him. He can’t hold back the string of curses that follow when Chris works a finger in, the sting of it new and yet familiar.

He bends his back slightly, eyes shut tight. When Chris has three in, Ross feels like he’s being wound up, tighter and tighter at each push. He thinks he can come like this, just from Chris’ fingers alone.

“Ross.”

The sound of his voice, rough and lust soaked on Chris’ lips forces Ross’ eyes open. Chris is close to his face, and Ross cranes his neck up, touching their lips together. It seems dirtier, this time, Ross thinks, with Chris busy stretching him. Chris’ arm rubs against his cock, and Ross rolls his hips up, and _ohh_ , _yes_ , the friction is nice, but Chris’ fingers go that bit _deeper_.

He forces his head to the side, and whimpers, actually _whimpers_ , “Sips.” And Ross doesn’t understand why he said Chris’ nickname, but above him Chris goes still. For a split second Ross thinks he’s made a mistake, but then Chris sits up, removes his fingers.

Chris pulls off his shirt and throws it to the floor. Ross watches him take off his sweats, and well, shit, of _course_ he isn’t wearing any underwear. Ross hums in amusement, and Chris shrugs.

“Sweatpants are perfect for no underwear,” Chris says. Ross doesn’t know about that, but he doesn’t complain. Chris picks up the condom. “Ready?” Ross nods, and Chris tears it open. He unrolls it down his cock, and grips the base of it, moves back in close.

Chris picks up one of his legs, and places a kiss to it. Ross bites his bottom lip, and when Chris presses in, Ross can’t look away from his face. Chris’ mouth is open just a fraction, and his eyes are dark. Ross barely even registers the burn of being filled, so focused on the drop of sweat that makes a trail down Chris’ cheek to his jaw.

Then Chris draws out, only to push back in, this time with more force. It snaps Ross’ eyes away, and they roll back, because he’s acutely aware of Chris’ cock in him, sliding rhythmicly, a hot press that reaches far into him, his nerves set alight.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ross wheezes, before he bites his palm. He pants through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. His skin is prickling, and Chris is murmuring something, but it’s too low for him to hear. Ross reaches out. Chris bends to him, and Ross can finally hear his words.

“You feel _fantastic_ ,” Chris coos, and Ross can’t help it, he fucking _giggles_. Chris stares at him with an amused smile.

Ross is just getting comfortable with the pace, enjoying the feel of Chris inside him, when on the next thrust in Chris shifts his leg, and-

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Ross whispers hoarsely, back bowing hard, cock giving a twitch.

“Yeah?” Chris perks up, grinding his hips forward. “Right there?”

“Yes,” is all Ross can sob out, saliva sliding from the corner of his mouth as he pants, hands scrambling at Chris’ skin, trying to find some purchase, some way to bring the man _closer_ even though they are already pressed together. He digs blunt nails into Chris’ back and holds on tight as Chris drives into him.

Ross’ throat is bared, his head back, and Chris lays open-mouthed kisses to it, causing shivers to work their way down his spine, and neighbors be damned, he doesn’t care about them hearing anymore.

He thinks he can just about go with it, this pace, the constant pressure of Chris’ cock against his prostate, wet slapping noises ringing in his ears. Ross doesn’t think it could feel better, until Chris grips his cock with a strong fist, thumb circling the head and pushing down just below it.

Then he’s coming _hard_ , a choked cry on his lips swallowed by Chris as he’s kissed roughly, a tongue pushing into his mouth, lapping at the roof of it before slicking across his own. It’s _almost_ too much, and Ross feels like he’s tumbling into pieces, the warm drops of his come falling onto his stomach, running out onto Chris’ hand.

Chris lets him breathe, and Ross hungrily gulps down air. The thrusts still come, but they’ve lost the grace they had before. Ross rides it out, blinks away pleasure-tears that had welled up, and watches Chris’ face, sees how his forehead wrinkles and his jaw clenches.

Ross reaches down, past the hand still wrapped around him and touches where they connect, splays his fingers along the base of Chris’ cock. Ross feels the man shudder, hips going erratic for just a moment before they still. Chris groans, and Ross knows he’s come.

Chris lets go of his leg, sliding out, and lies down next to Ross. Their breathing is loud to Ross’ ears. He thinks that he probably looks like a ravished mess, but it had been worth every second of being picked apart by Chris. Ross hums, then turns on his side, facing Chris. He knows that this is just a hook-up but… he really wants to fucking cuddle. Chris looks damn good, his skin slicked with sweat, shadow of stumble on his face, eyes closed. Ross rubs his nose against Chris’ shoulder, a hand inching its way along his arm.

Ross’ stomach growls, particularly loudly.

Chris laughs. “You know what sounds _really_ good right now?”

“Hm?”

“Delivery pizza.”

“Fuck,” Ross says, “that sounds fucking _amazing_.”

“So I should definitely order some.” Chris sighs and sits up. Ross watches him pull off the condom and throw it in the bin next to the bed. He hikes up his sweatpants and searches for his phone. “What kind ya want? I’m getting all veg. We can go half and half.” 

“All meat,” Ross says, and he can’t help the little smirk that wiggles onto his lips.

Chris crawls back onto the bed, and to Ross he looks much like a panther, all sleek lines and muscle. He crowds against Ross, nose to nose.

“Can’t get enough of that _protein_ , can you?” His voice is gravely almost, dark.

“Nope,” Ross whispers back.

Chris taps his nose with a ‘tsk’ and sits up. He searches for the number of the nearest pizza joint and orders, tells the person the hotel and room number, then hangs up.

All at once, Ross feels somewhat strange. Like he’s too comfortable, like this is too natural. He doesn’t think it’s a bad thing, though, because after having sex with Chris he knows he can trust the man, that actually he’s a really great guy. Maybe it’s just the infatuation of the moment trying to talk, but Ross tells his mind to fuck off and let him enjoy the little time he has left with Chris.

Because tomorrow is Sunday, and he leaves.

It stings a little, that thought. Of Chris leaving. Ross doesn’t even know where he lives, but he’s sure it’s not close by. He vaguely remembers Chris mentioning a flight the other night at the bar. He doesn’t think he dreamt that part up.

“Hey,” Chris says, and Ross turns his head to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Ross lies swiftly. He offers a smile. “Just feeling a little sticky is all. And cold.”

“Sit tight, I’ll grab a wash cloth.”

Ross stares at Chris’ back as he slides off the bed. He thinks it’s best this way. Chris has his own life, his own _busy_ life somewhere far away, and Ross has his own, here, with Alex. Alex. Ross thinks that it’s complicated. He still loves Alex, wouldn’t mind trying again, but Chris is…

The wet wash cloth that lands in his lap pulls him from his thoughts. Ross rubs himself down until he’s sure he’s gotten all the come and lube. Chris takes it from him and throws it towards the bathroom. Ross finds his underwear at the foot of the bed and shimmies into them. Then he gets under the covers and works on getting warm.

He catches Chris staring at him and tils his head, asking a silent question.

Chris just smiles at him, and does something on his phone.

“Wanna stay the night?” Chris asks suddenly.

“If you’ll have me,” Ross says politely.

“’Course,” Chris answers, and his voice sounds so _soft_ that it has Ross’ chest feeling tight, heart jumping to his throat.

“Chris-”

A knock on the door cuts Ross off. Chris goes to get the pizza and Ross bites at his lip. He _really_ shouldn’t try to get sentimental. Maybe this is a sign that he shouldn’t try to hook up, because he gets _attached_ , because he’s a people person, because even though he broke it off with Alex after a petty fight, he _still_ wants to go back and be with him, he wants to be in some form of a relationship because it gives him security. Ross rubs at his eyes, feelings all a jumbled mess. Chris is good, _too_ good to him.

“Here we go,” Chris says, and sets the box between them on the bed.

All this internal fussing has made Ross even hungrier, somehow.

They both take up slices, Ross stuffing it into his mouth, hardly registering the taste. His eyes feel hot, prickly, and dammit, he _isn’t_ going to cry. Ross busies himself with chewing, trying to focus on the pepperoni and the sausage, the melty cheese. It makes him feel worse, but he holds it together.

After he’s eaten as much as he can, Ross takes the napkin that Chris hands him, cleaning the grease and sauce from his fingers. He crumbles it in his hands.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Ross forces out, keeping it level. He stares straight ahead, at the dark television.

“Yeah,” Chris whispers, voice all gentle again, “me too.”


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG PLS FORGIVE ME

II

A month and a half later Alex comes to Ross with an appealing proposition.

“Think about it, if you will,” Alex says, hand on Ross’ shoulder, the other gesturing out towards the hotel lobby. “You, me, and Trott, spending our hard earned cash on hookers and blow.”

“Um?” Ross puckers his lips. “That sounds really great, but what are you trying to say?”

“Vegas, Ross, for a week. Do a little gambling, do a lot of drinking, watch a few shows. What do ya say?”

Ross is silent. He supposes that Vegas _could_ be a fun vacation. He enjoys hanging out with Alex, and ever since he and Trott got together, Ross has been invited multiple times to chill with them. Ross really likes Trott, thinks the guy is the perfect mix of silly and serious, and definitely has Alex on a leash. Not to mention he’s good looking, albeit on the small side, but that only adds to his charm.

“So?” Alex prompts.

“Sure. Why not.”

Alex claps him on the back. “All right! I’ll tell Trott asap. Get packing tonight.”

“Tonight?” Ross is taken back. “Don’t we have to ask for time off and have it get approved?”

“About that…” Alex shoves his hands into his pockets, leaning on his heels. “I kinda already asked for it, for all three of us a while ago.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me, then? I’m pretty sure I would have said yes.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise. Your birthday _is_ coming up-”

“My birthday isn’t until September. It’s a month away.”

“It’s an _early_ birthday present, you prick.” Alex sighs dramatically. “Don’t be a drama queen about it. We’ll have a great time.” He wraps an arm around Ross. “A chance to take your mind off a certain _someone_ , yeah?”

Ross pushes Alex away. “I told you we still text.”

Alex doesn’t look too offended by the move. “Anything else?” Ross feels his face heat, and he tries unsuccessfully to quell the rising blush. Damn nosey Alex. “Ah, so you _have_ been doing things,” he teases.

“Only a couple times,” Ross admits. He crosses his arms, refusing to look at Alex. “It’s not like phone sex is real sex or anything.”

“Mate, it _so_ is!”

“Whatever.” Ross rubs at his eyes. “How’d you manage to get all three of us off?”

Alex smirks. “Well, I’m _really_ good with my hands-”

“You know what I mean.”

Alex laughs. He says, “I know a couple people who owed me a favor. They’re just going to cover for the week. It’s not like it’s a lot of work. Manager said it was fine.”

Ross nods. “Then I guess I better find my suitcase. Are we driving all the way?”

“Naw, flying. Want as much time there as we can get, even though a road trip sounds sick.”

“Do you have anything else planned?” Ross asks. “Like where we’re staying?”

“Nope,” Alex says with a smile. “Thought we could just wing it.”

Ross thinks that winging it sounds expensive. While he has been saving up quite a bit, he doesn’t want to spend it all on an over-priced hotel on the strip. He checks the time, seeing that it’s a few minutes until his break.

He says he’ll talk to Alex later, and leaves for the staff room. Once there he can’t resist texting Chris. Ever since the man had went back home, they’d been in touch. Mostly texting, sometimes calling, one time they’d webcammed just to try it out. Ross knows better than to pretend he’s in some sort of long distance relationship, even if the thought of it intrigues him.

_Hey_ , Ross texts, _guess what Alex has planned._ He doesn’t expect a quick response, but one comes in a moment later.

_Is he gonna fuck his boyfriend and make you watch?_

Normally, Ross would find it funny, but lately he’s been reevaluating his feelings. For Alex, for Chris. A lot has been going through his mind ever since the hook up.

He plays it off, though. _Haha, I wish. But no, apparently we’re all going to Vegas. I think tomorrow?_

_You serious? I rent a condo there._

Ross’ eyes widen. He knows Chris has money, but he has a condo too? _That’s awesome._

_Yeah. If you guys want to stay in it, feel free. I’ll give you the security code as long as you promise not to steal my stuff._

_Whoa,_ Ross types, fingers quick, _that’s too much, even for us_. _Thanks for the offer._ It would be sort of an intrusion, Ross feels.

_I ain’t kidding. You know Vegas is pricey. What’s the harm in it?_

Ross bites his lip. He _supposes_ that it _might_ be okay… but still. _It’s kind of weird to stay in someone’s house when they’re not there._

_It isn’t my house, just a place I go to a couple times a year. C’mon. It has like, four guest rooms. I won’t even be mad if you fuck on the kitchen table, as long as you clean it up after._

He debates it, trying to weigh the pros and cons. There are many more positives, and he _really_ wants to save some money. If they are going to be drinking a lot, that alone will run his pockets dry…

_If you insist_ , Ross types out slowly. He stares at it, then hits send.

Chris replies, _I do._ And so it’s settled.

* * *

The flight isn’t too long, and Ross takes up the couple hours listening to music and staring out the plane window. Trott is next to him, and Alex sits closest to the aisle. Ross is quiet the whole way, headphones over his ears, watching the cities they fly over slide by, drenched in the orange glow of the afternoon sun. He tries not to think too much, which is hard. He wants to be able to use this vacation as a time to clear his head, to figure things out, but he doesn’t suspect it’ll go as planned. Mainly because alcohol will be involved. And alcohol means a drunk Alex, and a drunk Alex is _distracting_ , in many different ways.

Once they land and collect their bags, they take an Uber to Chris’ place. The two story condo is _big_ , and Ross hears Alex’s low whistle as they unload their things from the trunk.

“Damn. This is fucking sweet.” Alex leads the way up to the building. “I didn’t know he was _this_ loaded.” Alex turns to Ross and bumps their shoulders together. “He could totally be your sugar daddy.”

Before Ross can get a word in, Trott tells Alex to stop with the antagonizing. Ross punches in the security code for the door and it flashes green before the sound of bolts are heard. He pushes down on the handle and enters.

It’s so _open_ inside, all kinds of white space and windows lighting up the place. The living room and dining room are combined, and the kitchen is off on the far left. Alex brushes past Ross and stands in the middle of the room, clearly in awe.

Trott scolds him, though. “Alex, take off your dirty shoes before you track something onto the pristine carpet.”

“Get off my dick,” Alex grits, but he slips off his shoes. He tosses them at Trott, but the other steps out of the way before they can collide with his knees. “Shit, the TV is _massive_.”

While Alex drools over the electronics, Ross sets down his bag and removes his own shoes, then walks over to the kitchen and runs a hand along the black marble counter top. There’s only the faintest layer of dust. He brushes it off on his jeans. Chris must not have been here in some time. Ross maneuvers around the bar island (which his fully stocked with alcohol, he notes. Better not let Alex see that) and over to the couch.

Alex sits in the middle of it, and he looks thoroughly relaxed. Clearly he has already made himself at home.

Trott picks up Alex’s bag. “I guess all the rooms are upstairs. Do you know which one is the owner’s?”

“No idea,” Ross says. “But it’s probably the biggest.”

Alex perks up at that. “Just look for the one with a massive dildo collection.”

“I’d _love_ to,” Trott says, “But unfortunately, I’m not willing to look through someone’s things to find that.”

“I’ll look later,” Alex says, and Ross thinks that he actually might do it.

Ross turns around and he spots a pair of glass sliding doors. “C’mon,” he tells Alex. The man is reluctant to get up, but he does and follows Ross to the backyard.

There’s a small pool, but it’s empty save for some leaves. Alex clicks his tongue, probably annoyed. Ross hadn’t expected it to be full, what with Chris using the place so infrequently. Still, the desolate pool looks gloomy to him. The high fence that surrounds the backyard feels almost like a cage with the sun down behind it. Ross finds himself frowning. He feels Alex close to his side.

“Think we’re allowed to fill it up?” Alex asks.

“Did you forget that there’s a pool at the hotel where we work?”

“This is different. We’re on vacation.”

“We shouldn’t mess with it. This is just the place we’re going to sleep.”

“Ross, you’re such a killjoy sometimes,” Alex sighs. He stretches his arms up over his head and Ross can hear his back crack several times. “Damn, I’m hungry.”

“We should probably put our stuff away and find somewhere to eat,” Ross says. He nods towards the condo and they head inside.

Upstairs, Trott has found what is clearly a guest room for himself. Ross peers into each room, and they are all nicely sized with a queen sized bed in the middle along with a dresser and desk. Ross wonders why Chris bothers to rent out such a large place if he rarely comes to it. But maybe that’s just what people with a lot of money do.

The room at the very end of the hall is the largest, and has to be Chris’. There’s a bookshelf as well as a computer. Ross turns on the light and walks in. He thinks he might be overstepping some sort of boundary, but a quick look won’t hurt. He goes to the bookshelf and scans the titles. There are a lot of business and law related material. But on a higher shelf there are a few old computer games, some titles which Ross recognizes. There is even a section dedicated to some worn paperback classics. He’s surprised, really. He didn’t think that Chris was the kind of guy to read for fun.

“Hey,” Alex says from the doorway. Ross turns to him. “Did you pick a room yet? I took the one next to Trott.” Alex glances around the space, then smirks. “Unless you’re just gonna set up camp in here?”

“No,” Ross says, probably too quickly. He clears his throat. “It wouldn’t be right.”

“God, Ross, just live a little. He said it was okay, didn’t he? I haven’t met him, but Chris seems like a cool enough guy. Pretty sure he wants you to relax and have a good trip. He _was_ the one who offered for us to stay in the first place.”

Ross crosses his arms. He isn’t exactly feeling up for Alex’s nonchalant attitude at the moment. “Just because he said we could stay here doesn’t mean we can act like we own the place. I… don’t want him coming back here to find something is missing or moved, or that there’s a weird stain somewhere.”

“None of that’s gonna happen.” Alex pauses. He leans against the doorframe, looking at the carpet. “I didn’t exactly want to stay here, you know. Well, I didn’t want _you_ to.” Ross takes in a confused breath, and Alex meets his eyes. “I just wanted to bring you to Vegas and help you get over him. Ever since you hooked up with him you’ve been… more distant. I have to practically drag you out.”

Ross narrows his eyes. “Haven’t you considered that it’s because you have a boyfriend now, and that I don’t want to constantly be the third wheel?”

“It isn’t like that, Ross, and you know it.” Alex takes a step forward into the room. “You’ve never been the third wheel. And I was… happy that you were able to hook up with Chris, to get that out of your system. But maybe it wasn’t such a good idea that you did, after all.”

“What the fuck do you know about it?” Ross says, and he recognizes there’s too much venom in the question. He remembers back to that dumb fight they had that broke them up. He tries to calm down. It isn’t a good start to a vacation, fighting with your best friend.

“You’re right, what _do_ I know? Maybe if you would _talk_ to me about what’s bugging you, then we wouldn’t have to be having this conversation.”

Ross feels cold, like the air in the room has shifted. He drops his arms, shoves his hands into his pockets. Alex is glaring at him, eyebrows furrowed hard.

“Sorry,” Ross manages to get out. “It’s just… complicated.”

“What is?” Alex demands.

“Everything. Chris. You. How I feel. I’m still figuring it out.” Ross knows he sounds defeated now. He runs his thumb along his phone, nail catching on the side buttons. “I need more time, is all.”

Alex opens his mouth, but Trott appears behind him. “We should go eat,” he offers. Ross isn’t hungry anymore, but he nods.

They take a car back to the strip. Ross can’t force himself to pretend to be anything but in a mood. Alex picks some pizza place, and Ross only orders a salad. He watches Trott and Alex across the table. Watches their mouths move, but doesn’t hear what they’re saying. The smell of pizza reminds him of his night with Chris, makes him feel like shit.

He had just wanted to hook up. He never meant to get attached. And what makes him feel that much worse is how he still loves Alex and doesn’t think he’ll ever be over him completely.

* * *

Ross returns to the condo earlier than Alex and Trott. He says he doesn’t feel like drinking, and this time he’s telling the truth. Alex seems reluctant to let him go, but he says nothing. Ross texts them the security code before getting a ride back.

He busies himself with stuffing his clothes into the dresser of the room he decided to stay in. It’s the one closest to Chris’, and that probably says something, but he doesn’t care. He shakes out a shirt and folds it neatly. Let Alex and Trott have some alone time. Let Alex get wasted. Ross just needs this night to himself, to settle in and try to compose his emotions.

Once his clothes are put away, Ross takes out his laptop and tries to distract himself with videos. It works, because he ends up dosing off. When he wakes up, it’s four in the morning. He climbs out of bed and checks to see if Alex and Trott have come back yet. Trott’s room door is shut, so he supposes that they returned just fine. Ross rubs at his eyes, not feeling very tired. He descends down the stairs, seeing that someone left the light on in the kitchen.

As Ross is taking the last few steps, he looks to the right. He almost trips when he sees someone standing in front of the open fridge. Panic sets in, and he wonders where the nearest weapon is, because like hell he’s going to let an intruder get away unscathed.

But then the man turns, and Ross freezes because it’s Chris.

Chris doesn’t even look startled. He just smiles. “Didn’t think you’d be up this early.”

It takes Ross a moment, but he makes it to the bottom of the stairs and shuffles into the kitchen. There are bags filled with groceries on the counter, and it looks like Chris had been in the process of putting them away. He stands across the bar from Chris. “I went to bed early.”

“Why’d you do that? This is Vegas, sleep should be the _last_ thing on your mind.”

Ross briefly wonders if he’s dreaming. He pinches his side and it hurts. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

Chris returns to the bags, taking out a carton of eggs and a head of lettuce. He puts them into the fridge. “I decided to come visit. Not because I don’t trust you guys. I just thought that it would be nice. I haven’t been here in a while.”

“What about work?”

“I took off. I can get away with a week’s vacation, as long as I finish up the reports I was in the middle of.  Other than that, it’s been a little slow lately anyhow.” Chris turns back to Ross, and holds up a jug of orange juice. “Want some?”

Ross nods, and his stomach has the nerve to complain that he hadn’t exactly eaten much for dinner. Chris huffs a laugh, and Ross finds himself blushing. “I’m not hungry,” he says.

“Sure,” Chris agrees, and pours a tall glass of the orange juice. He sets it in front of Ross. “So, what’s up? You seem down.”

Ross lifts the glass and takes a drink. Is he that transparent? Hadn’t there been a time when he was good at fixing on a fake smile? No, he thinks, because Alex had seen through that and put an end to it. Ross swallows, feeling the cool liquid slide down his throat, feels it settle. He doesn’t want to talk to Chris about this because he can’t, not yet.

“Maybe I’m getting sick,” Ross says, even though he knows it isn’t true.

“Hm,” Chris says. He tilts his head, and Ross keeps drinking, hoping it’ll suffice. “Well, make sure to stay out of the sun, then. Don’t want you getting heatstroke.”

“Yeah.” Ross stares at the countertop, drums two fingers over the cold surface. He wants to look at Chris more, because hell, it’s been a while since he had got to see him in the flesh. But something keeps his eyes down. He almost feels like he isn’t _allowed_ to look, like there’s some unseen force telling him that he can only pick one person, that there’s only one _to_ pick. That Chris is just a friend, could never be anything more because why would he want to mess around even further with someone he had a hook-up with? But he can’t exactly go running back to Alex, because Alex has Trott now, and Ross can tell that Trott is really good for him, that they make a great pair. To try to step into that, it will just ruin things, won’t it?

There’s a touch to his arm, and Ross realizes he’s gone tense, hand gripping the glass too tightly. He lets it go, and glances at Chris, who’s now at his side. Chris is close, the heat of him reaching Ross along with the subtle scent of aftershave. Ross wants to kiss him, and thinks that Chris would let him, but he doesn’t know what they _are_ , and he doesn’t want to get ahead of himself. To him, it doesn’t matter if they’ve said some things on the phone when either had had a particularly stressful day. It’s not the acts that matter, not to Ross. It’s the meanings behind them, if there even are any.

Chris gives his hair a ruffle, and Ross is momentarily thrown off guard.

“What do you guys have planned for today?” Chris asks.

“I have no idea,” Ross says honestly. He doesn’t know if Alex has an itinerary. Probably not.

“How do you feel about stand-up?”

* * *

When Alex and Trott finally get their asses downstairs, they are as surprised as Ross was at seeing Chris, who holds up a pan of scrambled eggs.

Ross hangs around in the living room, MTV playing a little too loudly. He only catches pieces of the conversation that’s going on in the kitchen. It sounds like Alex has become instant friends with Chris, even went ahead and started to call him Sips. Though Ross can see the sense behind it; having two people with the first name Chris is a little confusing at times. Ross is relieved, but knows that Alex has a really big mouth, and is sure that some of his secrets are going to end up shared.

Still, he likes that the two now officially know each other. He only hopes that Alex doesn’t get on Chris’ nerves _too_ much.

After breakfast, Chris makes the mistake of showing off his black Jaguar XJ. Ross is pretty sure Alex drools at the sight alone, and he can’t help but marvel at its sleekness. Ross sits shotgun, the red and black interior almost too lavish. He doesn’t think there’s one scuff or crumb anywhere. It even has that faint new car smell.

“It’s a company car,” Chris confesses.

“Still,” Alex gushes, running his hands all over the leather of the backseat. “You get to drive this baby around.”

“True. But it’s a bit out of my range. I prefer something a little less flashy.”

While they make their way into the busiest part of the city, talking about all the cars Alex wishes he could drive, Ross thinks he’s starting to feel somewhat less strung out. The atmosphere is calmer now. Everyone appears to be getting along well, like Chris has been accepted easily into their group.

Chris takes them to a popular stand-up club. He knows the owner, and so they are let in for free. They sit at a table near the front of the stage, and Ross gladly takes the beer offered to him. He’ll admit it, he’s a little excited to be out watching a show, especially something that’s going to make him laugh.

Next to him, Alex catches his eye. They stare at each other for a second, and Ross thinks that it’s a moment of understanding between them. Ross knows they are going to have to talk soon, sit down and be serious, but right now they’ll enjoy themselves.

And Ross _does_ enjoy himself, because the comedians are entertaining and the beer is great. He learns that Chris’ full laugh is really, really terrific, beyond anything that Ross could have imagined it being. It’s addictive, in a way, makes him smile so much that his cheeks start to hurt. Next to him Alex leans against his side, warm and animate.

By the time the show is over, Ross’ mood has done a complete turnaround. They leave the establishment feeling high off the excellent jokes and strong beer. Chris hadn’t drank nearly as much as the others, but he still has a lopsided grin on his face as they get back into the car.

Alex starts talking about magic shows, how he wants to see if he can get hypnotized. Trott says that if they’re drunk then it isn’t going to work, so Chris takes them to one of the hundreds of casinos along the strip.

“Trott,” Ross says, “make sure to keep an eye on Alex so he doesn’t blow all his cash.”

“Fuck off, I’m not drunk enough to spend everything in my wallet,” Alex huffs.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not a child,” Alex whines, and Trott imitates him with a high pitched voice. The two attempt to wrestle in the back, seatbelts making it almost impossible.

“Kids, you better quit it or I’m turning this car around,” Chris says sternly, and Ross can’t stop the laughter from escaping him, even though he covers his mouth with a hand.

Ross looks at Chris, and he’s sure that Chris gives him a wink.

“Sorry, _Dad_ ,” Alex says. Ross doesn’t think there’s enough sarcasm in his voice, but he’ll blame it on the alcohol.

* * *

The mood is a little more pacific by the time they return to the condo. Ross had barely wasted any money on the slots, choosing instead to watch Chris play Blackjack for most of the time. Once the rush of the games had died down, they had eaten, and walked around until the sun dipped out of sight.

Chris disappears once they are inside, and Ross watches as Alex flicks through the various television channels. Turns out Chris gets pretty much everything, and a movie is picked. Alex curls up on the large couch with Trott tucked into his side. He pats the spot next to him.

“In a minute,” Ross says. “I’m going to see if Chris wants to join.”

He heads upstairs and to the end of the hall. Chris’ bedroom door is open, and Ross peeks in. It’s completely dark, save for the glow of the computer screen on Chris’ face. He’s typing, and Ross almost leaves, not wanting to disturb him. But Chris notices him and looks up.

“Wanna watch a movie with the guys?” Ross asks.

“I have to get one of these reports done.”

“That’s cool,” Ross says. “We’ll be downstairs.”

Chris nods, and Ross leaves him be. He understands that Chris is going to have some loose ends to tie, what with the way he took off so suddenly.

Ross takes up the space next to Alex and focuses on the movie, not too worried that Chris is busy. They had just spent today together, after all, and they still had the whole week ahead of them.

Ross expects Alex to make his usual comments, but he’s notably quiet through the whole feature. It’s entertaining, but it isn’t enough to distract Ross completely. He wonders if he should just wait until the vacation is over before trying to sort things out with Alex. But since Chris showed up, it has things much more complex than before. Or, Ross thinks, he’s just making this difficult, like he’s creating his own drama inside his head because he’s never experienced this kind of thing before.

By the time the credits come on, Alex and Trott are asleep. Ross leaves the couch and for the second time that night goes back up to Chris’ room. This time he stands fully in the doorway, arms crossed.

“You seem to have a lot of work,” Ross says.

“I was just finishing up. Come in.”

Ross steps into the room and sits on the bed. It’s past midnight, but he doesn’t feel tired at all. The darkness is a bit intimidating, but also strangely comforting. It reminds him of his own room, how he’d lock himself in with all the blinds drawn, wrapped in a blanket in front of a screen, losing track of time while playing games.

“I like to get ahead,” Chris says, suddenly. It draws Ross out of his thoughts. “I’m better at sitting down for a few hours and pushing through, rather than spreading it out.”

“That’s a good way to go about it,” Ross agrees.

The sound of a few more mouse clicks. Then, Chris stands, and Ross finds himself looking up. Half of Chris’ face is thrown into shadow, the other brightly lit from the computer. Ross wonders if he should say something, should thank Chris for taking them out today. But Chris reaches out a hand and slides it under his chin, holds him in place. Chris leans forward and kisses him, and it’s soft. There’s a taste of something sticky, probably lip balm, Ross thinks, and it’s a sweet, fruity flavor. Too light to pinpoint it exactly, and he doesn’t have time to mull over it because Chris pulls away. He stays close, though.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Chris murmurs. Ross feels his chest tighten, and his breath catches, because those are not words he had been expecting.

Ross doesn’t know what to say, so he pushes their lips together again. He flicks his tongue into Chris’ mouth, hands grabbing onto the back of Chris’ shirt. With a quick tug, Ross is lying on the bed, Chris kneeling over him.

He wishes he had a response, but perhaps it’s enough to show Chris, to shift into him with a roll of his hips. Just being this close to Chris again, kissing him, gets Ross excited. It’s a distinctly different experience than being around Alex, and it’s increasingly addictive. He doesn’t realize how much he _wants_ Chris until he’s finally kissing him, pressed against the mattress like this.

He bites onto Chris’ bottom lip, shivers at the low moan he gets in return. Chris grinds their crotches together and Ross can feel how hard he is, how hard they _both_ are. He knows the door is open, that anyone can come down the hall and see them, all covered in unnatural white light, but Ross can’t bring himself to care, not when Chris is running a hand through his hair and shifting to kiss along his neck. The drag of Chris’ stubble tickles, and Ross hums. He’s missed Chris, but he’s also missed this, this touching that they had done only once before.

Ross thinks that he wants to change that. He’s through with a few and far between instances, is eager for something stable and continuous. Even if that means he has to get over Alex, he’s willing to try, because he’s desperate to make something good out of what’s been offered.

Chris’ hand pops the button on his jeans, dips past his briefs and grips his cock. But Ross pushes at Chris’ chest, makes him sit up.

“You too,” is all Ross says. Chris waits, and Ross works his hand past the tight waistband until he touches hard flesh. It’s different this time, and Ross feels more in control. Different, yet the same since they’re both getting off.

Ross leans into Chris, lets his forehead rest on the man’s shoulder. He tightens his hand as much as he dares, focuses the pressure along the bottom with each pull. It’s too dry, and Ross stops to lick his palm, get as much spit on it as he can before wrapping it back around.

Chris’ voice is next to his ear, saying, “You get wet so quick. I like that.”

Ross’ face heats, and he presses it harder into Chris’ shoulder. He wants to say that it’s Chris fault, that he normally doesn’t come apart so easily. He also wants to be able to say something dirty like he had those few times on the phone. But with Chris right in front of him, his embarrassment takes the top spot. Plus, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to think about anything other than how _fantastic_ Chris’ hand on him is, how a thing as simple as this can push him to the edge in only a few minutes.

He pants against Chris’ shoulder, staring down at their darkened hands moving together, ears full of the slick noises. The only thing Ross can manage to say is, “Close.” And even then, it sounds weak, like he can’t get enough air in his lungs.

Yet, Chris hears him. “Do it,” he says. “Come all over my hand.”

Ross tries to not be affected by Chris’ words, and yet his body has once again been played far too perfectly for him to resist. With a gasped moan his seed covers Chris’ hand, and he’s pretty sure it gets elsewhere too. But Ross has his eyes squeezed shut, attempting to focus on finishing Chris off.

A low groan rumbles low in Chris’ throat, and Ross only has to give a few more flicks over the head before Chris comes. He catches as much as possible, and then is at a sudden loss as to where to wipe his hand.

“Um…?” Ross stutters, and lifts his head. Chris kisses Ross, slow and ardent, before he reaches towards the nightstand and presents Ross with some tissues. “Oh. That works.”

“I should fill up the pool,” Chris says.

Ross finds this sudden topic shift somewhat strange, but not a bad idea. “Alex _is_ pretty disappointed that it’s empty.”

“It’s not that big. I can turn on the hose now and by morning it’ll be full.”

“If you want.”

“I’ll go do that quick, then. Sit tight.”

“I should go to the guest room,” Ross says. He’s feeling much more tired now.

“You don’t want to sleep in here?” Chris asks, and Ross thinks there’s a hint of displeasure in the question.

“Do you want me to?” The thought hadn’t exactly been at the forefront of his mind.

Chris takes a moment to cup Ross’ cheek, and Ross thinks he’s going to be kissed again. “Of course,” Chris says, and then lets his hand fall away.

Ross nods. “All right, then.”

While Chris heads downstairs, Ross changes into proper pajama pants and an old shirt. He squints at himself in front of the bathroom mirror, then rubs at his eyes. He remembers how he had stayed the night when he first got with Chris. Ross had thought it a good idea to leave, and he kept telling himself that even as he’d curled under the blankets, Chris at his side. When it was time for Chris to leave in the morning, he had felt almost numb. He’d seen the man off, went home and showered, then came back and worked.

But it isn’t like that this time. It’s completely different. Maybe this time he’s actually _something_ to Chris instead of just a fuck, and maybe Chris is _something more_ to him entirely. Are they supposed to talk about it? Ross believes he knows Chris decently enough by now, but has no idea what the man thinks of relationships. Would it be too much to try to push questions onto him, especially since he hasn’t even talked to Alex yet?

In Chris’ room, Ross turns on a lamp before getting into bed. There’s a sense of awkwardness that settles in his chest at having to wait like this. He smooths down the blanket, letting a finger trace the stitching. He knows he can just turn the light off and try to go to sleep, but he sits up against the headboard, staring at the doorway.

A minute later he hears muffled footsteps, and then Chris is there, stepping into the room. Ross watches as he closes the door before he goes over to the dresser and takes out a pair of sleep pants, and Ross doesn’t look away when Chris strips down to his underwear before hiking the pants up to his hips. Surreal. That’s the word that’s been circling his head for a while now. Ever since he saw Chris in the kitchen, that’s how the whole trip has felt.

Chris takes his time to give the pillows a fluff, then pulls back the blanket and makes himself comfortable. Ross stares at the wall, biting his lip.

“I want to see you again, after all this,” Chris says, suddenly. He turns his head to look at Ross. “That is, if you’re okay with it.” Ross doesn’t _want_ to meet Chris’ eyes, but he does so. Chris’ face is open, bathed in the soft shadow of the yellow light, and Ross thinks he must not have heard right. His confusion has to be obvious, because Chris shifts to face him more fully. “We’re pretty into each other, yeah?”

Ross swallows. The words try to stick in his throat, sound a little strained. “You’re not wrong.”

“I’m not asking you to drop everything and come live with me. We can just meet up whenever we’re free.”

Ross has to blink to bring his vision back into focus. Meet up? Is that what _he_ wants to do? “It… seems like a lot of trouble to go through.” Ross knows he sounds pessimistic, but he’s just trying to be serious. He refuses to get his hopes up, not until he’s sorted it all out.

“I don’t find it any trouble,” Chris says. “But if you do, it’s all right.”

“It’s not,” Ross finds himself saying. He picks at the blanket, lets his eyes fall. “It’s just that, what if I…” He pushes at his teeth with his tongue. He’d _thought_ he had known what it is he wants. But the way Chris is talking sounds… too infrequent for him. What he’d had with Alex, what he _does_ …

“I thought it would be better for you this way.” Chris interrupts his thoughts. “You can do whatever you want, I don’t care.” Ross flicks his eyes up. Chris gives a soft smile. “What do they call it? An open relationship? Unless you’re not into that.”

Truthfully, Ross had never considered it. It hadn’t made its way into his mind, which, frankly, is a little strange. But now it’s right here, being offered, and Ross momentarily forgets his filter.

“Yeah, I still like Alex, but it’s not like we’re ever getting back together.” Ross licks his lips. Chris’ eyes on him are almost too intense. “And even though I love him, I like y-” Ross cuts himself off, bites his tongue _hard_ , and it’s weird that it’s so involuntary, and he’s shocked at himself. His face warms, and Ross has to close his eyes, try to _breathe_ for a second.

“I get it,” Chris says, and he sounds _far_ too amused. Ross opens his eyes when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and slides it inwards. Chris’ fingertips tap the side of his neck. “You’re in love with me.” Chris’ smile widens until Ross can see his teeth.

Ross’ first instinct is to deny it, because really, how can he be _that_ obvious? Or maybe Chris is just perceptive, maybe he has a gift for reading people. Ross doesn’t know, and at this point he doesn’t care.

“I might be,” Ross blurts, and sure, that sounds like an acceptable answer.

“Might?” Chris won’t stop smiling, and it’s starting to creep Ross out a little bit.

“Yeah,” Ross says. He feels Chris’ hand tighten over his pulse. It’s beating far too fast and he knows Chris can feel it. It isn’t like he’s trying to be coy, even though it must seem like it. Ross wishes he could say things simpler, to not get so flustered.

Chris hums. “That’s cute.” He pulls Ross towards him, and their foreheads meet. “I _might_ be as well.”

Ross’ eyes widen. “What-”

He’s cut off by Chris kissing him firmly. When Chris pulls away, he says, “You blush easy.”

Ross rolls his eyes. “Whose fault is that? You’re always… saying _things_.”

“Oh?” Chris asks, and Ross knows he shouldn’t have mentioned that. Chris tilts his head, looking thoughtful. “What kind of things do you mean?”

Ross grabs Chris’ hand on his neck, squinting his eyes. “Don’t try to act innocent. It doesn’t suit you.”

Chris turns his hand and laces their fingers together. He looks a bit wicked now, Ross thinks.

“Then what suits me, Ross Hornby?”

He’s just trying to rile Ross up, that’s all. Ross knows this, but it still gets to him. Chris is pushing all the right buttons. “When you act like a total flirt, Chris _Lovasz_.”

Ross is pretty proud of that one, and is mentally congratulating himself for it when Chris’ eyes go dark, and Ross is pretty sure ‘mischievous’ is the perfect word for what he’s seeing on the man’s face right now. Ross tenses.

But then Chris is back to normal, and he gives Ross’ hand a squeeze before he lets it go. “We should sleep.”

Ross is a little disappointed, but it _is_ getting late, and Alex and Trott have already been asleep for a while. Chris turns off the lamp and Ross scoots down in the bed. He debates which side to lie on and ends up with his back to Chris. Ross finds the quiet between them comfortable. He closes his eyes and relaxes.

There’s heat against his back, and Chris slides an arm around his chest. Ross’ breath catches just for a moment.

“Night, Ross,” Chris mutters against his neck.

Ross smiles. “Night.”

* * *

The next night when they go out drinking, Ross fully commits himself to it. He tries to keep a steady pace, but eventually Chris starts to pay for whiskeys and shots, and Ross feels like he’s slipping. He sits at the bar, pressed between Alex and Chris, and tugs at his shirt collar. His face and neck are flushed bright, and it’s too damn _hot_ in this place. The air is heavy with cigarette smoke, but if Ross leans to the right he can just catch a whiff of Chris, something spicy mixed with detergent, but his muddled brain can’t stay interested for long.

Alex says something, and it must be funny, because he’s grinning and pushing at Ross’ side. Ross gives him a nod, finger swirling around the condensation on the drink in front of him. Here isn’t like the bars he’s used to. Here it’s much brighter, the music lower, mainly the rings and whistles of slot machines being played and it overlaps with the repeated clink of glasses set on tables. There is a group somewhere (Ross can’t see them) that insists on being much too loud, but he doesn’t really care. He’s in his own headspace, slowly shifting attention back and forth between Alex and Trott.

Chris is quiet next to him. Ross glances at the man’s watch, and it takes him a moment to read that it’s only ten. It seems like they’ve been there for longer, but they had only started at eight-thirty. Ross adjusts on the stool, leaning forward, giving his back a stretch. He lets out a long breath.

“You good?” Chris asks.

Ross takes a swallow of what’s left in his glass, then lets it come down a little too heavily against the bar top. “Yeah,” Ross answers, voice thick. He clears his throat and blinks a few times.

“Want another?”

“Think ‘m good.” Ross waits for a moment, then says, “Toilet,” and heads off to find it.

Once inside, Ross grips the sink, eyes squinting under the harsh lighting. He looks at his reflection, then flicks on the faucet. The cold water is soothing on his overheated face. Ross is desperate to sober up. Why had he thought it a good idea to shot race Alex? Of course the man was going to win. As Ross blindly reaches for the paper towels he hears the door open, but pays it no mind. He pats his face dry and crumples the paper towel before dropping it into the bin.

In the mirror, Ross can see a blond man at one of the urinals behind him. It’s all that registers to his scattered thoughts, the light hair that’s almost white in places. It makes him think of his own hair, and how there are already a few silver strands coming in. Damn. He’s getting old. Or maybe he’s just exaggerating. He’s hardly a quarter of his way through life. Must be the alcohol talking.

It also must have been the alcohol making him stand at the sinks, doing nothing, because by the time Ross realizes so, the blond man is next to him, washing his hands. Ross turns his head and stares openly, and he probably shouldn’t do that, because it isn’t polite at _all_ , especially not in a bathroom of all places. But Ross does, and the man actually isn’t half bad looking. He’s dressed casually in a red T-shirt and jeans, thong sandals strapped to his feet. Ross catches himself smiling a little, just a tilt of his lips at the corners.

The man looks at him, and his eyes are an impossible shade of green, green like kiwis and clovers and apples. Or maybe more like two avocados, cut in half with the pit still inside. Ross doesn’t even register licking his lips, too busy thinking about food, how he could really go for some guacamole.  

But suddenly time feels like it gets stuck, like the cruise control shuts off. All of Ross’ vision is filled with the man, then, their faces close. Ross takes a step back, hits his hip on the edge of the sink. He barely notes the dull throb of pain because the man is lifting a hand to his shoulder.

Ross _knows_ he should be moving, should be pushing away and walking out the door and back to where everyone else is. But his feet stay planted, a hand still on the sink, knuckles gone white they’re holding onto it so firmly. The man is taller than him, has broader shoulders than him. Ross has to tilt his head up to make eye contact, and to be honest he doesn’t even _want_ to, but his drunkenness demands him to stand his ground, even though who is he kidding? Not once has he ever looked intimidating.

The man opens his mouth, and Ross wonders what he’s going to say, what he could possibly say in this situation. Was this even a _situation?_

But Ross doesn’t get to hear it, because the man is pulled from his vision. It takes him a second to look, but he sees Chris, his hands full of the guy’s shirt, moving him away.

“He’s _far_ too drunk to be interested in you, and even if he wasn’t, he’s already taken,” Chris says, and Ross can hear the sheer malice in the steady voice.

Ross watches Chris release the man. It’s probably tense between them, what with the man practically hulking over Chris, but Ross can’t tell. His sight goes out of focus temporarily and he has to force it back. By the time he does, the man is brushing past Chris and out the door.

And then it’s quiet, and Ross can only hear his own breathing.

Chris walks up to him and breaks that silence. “He didn’t do anything to you, did he?”

Ross can only shake his head, doesn’t trust his voice. And yet, seeing Chris all serious, brow furrowed, lips drawn in a tight line, it makes Ross happy, thankful even, that someone is worried about him. He hugs Chris, and it’s probably too hard, but Ross does it anyway. Chris stands still, lax against him, then gives one solid pat to his back.

“We should go home,” Chris says against his ear, and Ross likes the sound of that. _Home._

* * *

Somehow they’ve been in Vegas for five days. Ross sits at the edge of the condo’s pool, sunglasses sliding down his sweat slicked nose, watching as Alex uses all his strength to splash water at Trott. Chris is up in his room, once again doing some work that had come up, which makes Ross a bit dejected, but it can’t be helped. Ross kicks his legs back and forth through the water, heels hitting the side of the pool in rhythmic thunks. The afternoon sky is clear, sun directly above them, no clouds in sight. The dry heat of the Mojave Desert seems to roll off of every surface and slowly bakes him alive.

Ross is just about to slip into the cool water when Alex swims over to him. He stands there, chest deep in the liquid, looking up at Ross. Ross is going to ask Alex what he wants, but Alex moves to the stairs and gets out. Water drips from his swim shorts and Ross swears that it sizzles on the hot cement.

Alex signals for Ross to follow him into the condo, and Ross does so. Inside is deliciously chilly, and he shivers. They dry off as best they can as to not soak the floor, then Ross follows Alex into the kitchen. He watches the man open the fridge and take out a jug of lemonade. He pours them both a cup. They’re across from each other, the island separating them.

Alex leans over the countertop and rests on his forearms, hands around the cup. Ross knows that he’s thinking about something, because he has that _look_ on his face. A look of certain concentration and seriousness that’s blatantly apparent, and Ross doesn’t miss how it shifts into something softer when Alex looks up at him.

“You and Sips, you gettin’ along? I mean, that’s dumb to ask, since you sleep in his room every night.” A very slow, sly smile spreads across Alex’s lips. “You’re pretty quiet, which isn’t like you-”

“We haven’t fucked here, if that’s what you’re implying,” Ross interrupts.

Alex’s smile stays put. “Oh,” is all he says to that. Then, “I know I said earlier… that I didn’t much like him. But that was before I got to know him. I take back what I said, about him not being good for you, because clearly he is. Hell, he’s good for all of us…” Alex sips from his cup, and Ross doesn’t miss the flash of tongue that runs over his lips, catching the residual sugar. Alex pins Ross with a pointed look. “You don’t still think you’re the third wheel, do you?”

Ross hadn’t let himself ponder that ever since he and Alex had first talked about it days ago. He had been too occupied with Chris, and sorting all that out. And now he is sorting _this_ out, and he is going to do it right. No skirting around the edges, no more saying he _doesn’t know_ , because he does.

“I’ll always love you,” Ross says, and the words taste cliché to him, straight out of a romance movie, but it’s simple, how he feels, there isn’t a way around that. “No matter if you’re dating someone, or single, or if we fight. I care about you because you’re my friend, and so are Trott and Chris. But Chris…” Ross pauses. Alex is waiting, looking all statue-like, eyes focused directly on him. Ross sighs, leans a little against the counter. “I’m interested in him, in a relationship. We’ve already talked about it. I just don’t want you to think I’m betraying you or something, because it isn’t like that.”

“You dating someone isn’t _betraying_ me, Jesus, Ross. Is that what you’ve been thinking this whole time?”

Ross shrugs. “A little. It’s hard, okay? After we broke up… I don’t know why we even did. We shouldn’t have. It was stupid,” he says.

Alex gives a light hum, and nods. “We’re both just idiots who hate to admit when we’re wrong.”

At that, Ross smiles. He says, “Yeah.” But then he lets the smile fall. “I like Chris, but now that we’re a _thing_ , it’s not going to change what we have, is it? Because-”

“Ross, oh my god, shut up,” Alex pushes away from the counter and circles it. He wraps an arm around Ross’ lower back. “It’s like you have no idea how relationships work.”

“Well!” Ross doesn’t want to admit that Alex had been his first actual boyfriend, and he doesn’t have to, thankfully, because Alex already knows it. So instead he says, “I just want it to be good between us. You said I’ve been distant, and I don’t want to be like that anymore.”

“Ugh,” Alex huffs. He turns into Ross fully, and rubs his beard against Ross’ shoulder. “Just be you, the Ross I’ve known for years. Don’t try to _be_ anything else.” He stops and looks Ross in the eyes. “For the record, I love you, too, even if you _are_ relationship challenged.”

And Ross wants to retort, because he can’t let Alex get away with saying that, no matter how true it is, but Alex kisses him square on the mouth. All Ross can taste is lemons and sweetness, and he lets his eyes shut just briefly, just enough to savor the moment because it’s been a while since they’ve done this.

“We shouldn’t do that,” Ross says once they’ve parted. “It’s not fair to Trott or Chris.”

“I don’t know about that,” Alex says with a grin. “Pretty sure we could all have a right good orgy. You down?”

Ross is only fifty percent sure that Alex is joking. “Maybe in the future. Save a date.”

Alex grins at him before giving his ass a whack, then grabs his hand. “Come on, back outside with you, gotta get some sun on that skin of yours.”

Ross thinks that Alex doesn’t have a right to comment on that, since he’s just as pale, but he lets himself be pulled back out to the pool.

* * *

It’s their last night, and Ross and Chris are unexpectedly split from Alex and Trott. It had been a spur of the moment thing, with Alex insisting that he _had_ to see a magic show before they left, and of course it had been late, and the showing he wanted was just about to sell out. He managed to get the last two tickets. Ross didn’t mind. He let Alex and Trott see the show, while he and Chris visited the shops along the strip.

It is actually pleasant, spending alone time with Chris, browsing different clothing and knickknack shops. They find a Superdry store and Ross can’t resist having a look, despite over half his wardrobe already consisting of Superdry products. Chris follows him around, and Ross thinks that he’s being watched particularly closely. He flicks through a rack of T-shirts.

“See anything you like?” Chris asks.

“The whole store,” Ross says, and he wishes it isn’t true, but it is. “What about you? Or is this not your style?”

“It’s nice. Just seems like it’s more fitting for guys like you.”

“Like me?” Ross doesn’t really know what Chris means. Ross thinks he’s an average person.

“A little expensive, but simple in a casual way.”

“Thanks.” He still doesn’t understand, but Chris is smiling at him, so Ross thinks it must be all right.

They leave the store, back onto the crowded sidewalk. Chris finds Ross’ hand and at first Ross feels awkward about it, but this is Vegas, and no one knows him, and people probably won’t care. So he relaxes, fits their fingers together.

“Have you done everything you wanted to?” Chris asks him.

“I think so. I hadn’t had anything planned, since it was so sudden.”

Chris nods. Then he says, “Want to head back? I bet we’ll have a couple hours before Smith and Trott are done.” And the way Chris raises an eyebrow makes Ross stop.

“Are you…?” Ross is pretty confident he knows what Chris is suggesting and he definitely isn’t opposed to it.

“Yup,” Chris says with a grin, and he pulls Ross into him. “So, _loverboy_ , do you wanna-”

Ross coughs loudly and shoots a glare at Chris. When Chris just stares back knowingly, Ross rolls his eyes. “Let’s go, then.”

And during the ride to the condo Ross refuses to look at Chris, and to his surprise Chris keeps his hands to himself. Even when they get inside and go upstairs, there’s a sense of patience between them, and Ross thinks that perhaps he somehow read the mood wrong. He stands at the foot of Chris’ bed, looking out the window at the becoming dusk. The street lights aren’t yet on, but he can see some people hanging out on the driveway across from them.

He feels Chris come up behind him, hands settling on his hips. Chris is just tall enough to be able to rest his chin on Ross’ shoulder.

“We should have had a barbecue,” Chris says against his ear. “Coulda cooked up all kinds of meat for you guys.”

Ross hums. “Alex would have been all over that. I don’t think there’s anything he likes more than a steak slathered in barbecue sauce.”

“What about you?”

“I think I prefer gravy.”

“Nice,” Chris says, and Ross can hear the smile in his voice.

Ross is going to say more, elaborate on how gravy is a pretty big deal, but Chris slides his hands under the hem of Ross’ shirt. Fingers skim over his stomach and upwards, splaying across his chest and finally settling on his collarbone. Chris mouths at the edge his ear before biting onto the soft lobe. Ross shivers and tilts his head back. Chris releases his ear and switches to his neck, pressing faint kisses down the strong line of it. His shirt gets in the way and Chris helps him out of it.

Chris holds him in place, one arm wrapped around his torso, the other tracing a free hand in zigzags across his back. “So many freckles,” Chris mumbles. The hand stops on his lower back. “Hey, lie down on the bed for me. On your stomach.”

Ross is let go of and he climbs onto the bed. He adjusts the pillows before getting comfortable, head turned to the side. He can just barely see Chris behind him, pulling off his own shirt. The bed dips around his legs, and Chris settles on the backs of his thighs.

With gentle hands and seeking fingers, Chris follows invisible paths along Ross’ back. “All of these,” Chris says, voice so low Ross almost can’t hear him. But the room is quiet. “I think I could stare at them for hours, finding constellations.” A finger follows the bumps of his spine until it reaches the top of his jeans.

“Shut up,” Ross mumbles into his shoulder. He doesn’t know if he can take listening to Chris say such things. It makes his heart beat much too hard, has it wanting to come out of his chest.

“Hm?” Chris very lightly racks his fingernails back up Ross’ sides, and he squirms. “Is my wooing that bad?”

“I don’t need to be _wooed_. You already have me…” Ross buries his face into the pillow. God. It’s _too much_ , too new. He doesn’t believe he can handle more of that kind of talk.

“All right,” Chris says. “Then what do you want me to do?”

Ross sighs as loud as he can and it comes out muffled. “Nothing,” he tries to say.

“What was that?” Chris bends closer, slides a hand into Ross’ hair. “If you don’t have any suggestions, then I guess I’ll keep going…” The weight on him shifts, and Chris tugs at his jeans. Ross stays still, knowing he’s being difficult. The material only makes it to mid-thigh. Chris puts one hand on each of his brief-covered ass cheeks. “If you wore tighter jeans you could show this off. It’s something to be proud of.”

Ross is almost certain that there’s nothing special about his ass, and he doesn’t know why he would need to show it off. He keeps silent, enjoying the feel of Chris touching him. His underwear are tugged down a second later, and this time they come all the way off along with his jeans. Chris raises him up until he’s kneeling, chest still flat against the mattress.

It’s cold, being completely exposed, but Chris is like a heater, and he moves in until Ross is sure that it’s breath he feels against him. Ross isn’t positive what Chris is going to do, but he has a vague idea of what might come next, and he can’t suppress the shudder of excitement that flashes through him when Chris spreads his ass. The anticipation builds until he can feel steady puffs of warm air across his skin, and he tenses on the first damp touch of tongue to his entrance.

Chris waits, and Ross shakily takes air into his lungs, as good as he can with a face full of pillow. The exposed feeling returns, but it’s much more intimate this time. Ross grips the blanket under him, waiting for more. Chris massages a hand across his back in calming strokes and it helps, lets his muscles ease. The tongue gives a faint pass over the rigid ring and it has Ross biting his lip, his cock hardening. The next press is firmer and the tip makes it inside, heat of it strong, and it causes Ross’ body to twitch because it’s _good_ , so good.

Ross doesn’t register that he’s panting harshly until the wetness of saliva soaks into the pillow. He turns his head to the side, gulps in air before he says, “Fuck.”

Chris’ hum sounds amused, and it tickles. The tongue reaches in further, moves in little circles, and Ross feels taut, like he could snap at any moment. When Chris pulls his tongue back and lays it flat against him, Ross can’t stop the whine from escaping his lips. Chris licks up, repeats it, and Ross groans. An odd sense of want washes over him. Ross has a need to beg, to tell Chris _don’t stop_ , but his voice is useless.

The hand on his back smooths over his side, to his hip right above the bone, and nails indent the skin there, forces Ross’ spine to bow hard, and he can’t take it, this overload of sensations all at once. He reaches back and tangles his hand into Chris’ hair and pulls.

Chris withdraws. “Had enough?” he asks, voice low and gruff. All Ross can do is nod. The bed jerks as Chris gets off. Ross takes the free moment to pacify his alight nerves. He wants to touch himself, but he stays still, not caring that he must look weird with his ass in the air.

When Chris comes back to the bed, Ross hears the all too familiar snap of a cap opening. Ross expects wet fingers, but nothing happens. He shifts, looks behind him, and Chris appears thoughtful, staring down, container of lube in his hand.

Chris says, “Turn over.” Ross hesitates, but he flips himself, gives his legs a quick stretch. “Hold out your hand.” He knows now, what it is Chris wants.

The cool gel is squeezed into his palm. Ross lets it warm, dips his fingers into it to coat them. He spreads his legs, and Chris’ dark eyes are on him, making him flush with embarrassment. Ross sets his feet flat on the bed and opens himself up, lets his slicked fingers tease the outside, and he has to lower his gaze from Chris, because it’s too much.

“Ross.” His name draws his eyes back up. “Don’t look away,” Chris says, and he sounds like he means business. Ross swallows, doesn’t know if he can handle this, but he’ll try.

His middle finger goes in with one effortless press, followed by his index. Ross clenches his jaw, wants to close his eyes, but keeps them open because he _has_ to. Chris has an air of calmness to him, and Ross can sense his steady breathing. How does Chris always manage to have such control, to remain so composed while Ross feels like he’s becoming a jittery mess? What can he do, Ross thinks, to change that levelheaded and commanding face?

Ross stills his fingers and lifts a foot. He digs his toes into Chris’ cheek and tries to pinch the bristled, stubbly skin.

Chris’ eyes widen, and Ross holds back a laugh at the sheer disbelief that crosses Chris’ face. _That’s_ what he’s been wanting. Throw this cool guy for a loop. Ross finds himself grinning, sliding his foot along Chris’ jaw to his chin.

Then Chris grabs his foot and gives a bite to his big toe, and Ross can’t stop the little ‘ah’ that escapes him at the ripple of pleasure that shoots down his leg and straight to his cock.

“Stop being cute,” Chris tells him, and sets his foot back on the bed. “It’s already taking everything I have to hold back.”

Ross thinks he must be joking, but Chris sounds fairly serious.  “Why are you holding back?” Ross asks, and it’s honestly just the first thing that pops into his head.

“Because it’s been over a month,” Chris says. “I want this to last as long as it can. Who knows when we’ll see each other again.” That hits Ross right in the chest, if only fleetingly. His smile drops, and Chris raises an eyebrow, concern clear. “What’s wrong?”

Ross wonders if they should be having this conversation right now, with his fingers buried in his ass and cock aching. But a part of him knows that Chris is right, that their lives aren’t exactly going to work seamlessly together, not unless one of them changes how it is. But they’re both stable, so why should they? So, Ross shakes his head. “It’s fine,” he says, and he’s sure he means it.

Chris watches him for a moment before he sighs. “Sorry. Did I ruin the mood?”

Ross glances down at himself, then back up to Chris. He smiles. “Does it look like it?”

With a hum, Chris leans forward. He taps their foreheads together, then kisses Ross. It’s unhurried and Ross can taste Chris’ apology, the kindness in it. And Ross pushes back, conveys that it’s all right, even though the future between them is unknown. Ross _knows_ they’ll make something work, and right now he only wants _this_.

He removes his fingers and dips his hands to Chris’ jeans. Ross pops the button and undoes the zip, then cups the bulging underwear. He stops their kiss. “Sips,” he says, even though the name still feels foreign on his tongue, “fuck me.”

Above him, Chris is motionless. When Chris sits back, he’s more shadowed than before, sun finally gone far below the horizon. He pulls his jeans and underwear down to his thighs and holds up a condom. Ross watches him tear it open and roll it onto his straining cock. “Anything for you, loverboy.”

The words get to Ross, make him shiver and hold his breath. He lifts his legs and wraps them around Chris’ hips, tries to get him closer. Chris lines himself up, rests the head against Ross’ slicked entrance, and leans forward.

Ross sets his arms on top of Chris’ shoulders and brings their lips together again, rougher this time, with more teeth. He feels Chris push into him, a gradual slide that’s full of delicious friction. A moan is caught between them only to be devoured by Chris as he licks into Ross’ mouth. Ross expects Chris to wait, give him some time to adjust, but already he’s pulling back. The thrust in is full of force, and it has Ross gasping, tipping his head back. It leaves his neck bare, and Chris attacks it with bruising nips. Ross is starting to believe that Chris has a thing for necks.

“Shit, Ross, you’re perfect,” Chris mutters against Ross’ throat, rolling his hips forward before dragging them back. The next shift in has Ross’ toes curling because it goes so _deep_ , reaches places Chris has only one time before, and Ross feels his thoughts tumbling and dispersing. He can only focus on Chris inside of him, that constant driving pressure that builds and builds, shoves humiliating nonsense noises out of him. And he _knows_ Chris revels in each one, each high pitched whine that spills past his lips and each groan that is barricaded behind his gritted teeth. He knows, because Chris growls lowly, grinds his cock in even strokes that flare every nerve in Ross’ body.

“Chris, _Jesus,_ I can’t-” Ross cuts himself off by slapped a hand to his mouth, semi-effectively trapping any noise that wants to be heard.

Chris slows, and he pries Ross’ hand away. “Just a little longer,” Chris pants against his face. “For me, just a little longer.”

Ross curls his fingers around the base of his leaking cock, desperate to make himself last. But Chris’ relentless assault on his ass is almost too much, he’s feeling _too much_ , and he squeezes his eyes shut, back bowing, his chest bumping into Chris’. His thighs tighten around Chris’ hips.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Ross wheezes, “Chris, _shit_ , I _can’t_.”

“All right.” Chris kisses his sweaty forehead. “All right.”

Ross moves his hand up and strokes himself through his orgasm. His voice is choked and tears prick at the corners of his eyes, and Ross buries his face into Chris’ shoulder.

Chris continues his thrusts and they become erratic. He pulls away from Ross, sitting up. “God damn, you’re sexy,” he breathes out, and Ross opens his eyes just as Chris lets his fall shut. He grunts, then stills. A moment later he blinks and looks down at Ross, a goofy smile on his face.

Ross stares at Chris, barely able to see him anymore, both steadily regaining their normal breathing. Ross is about to try to turn on a lamp, but Chris’ weight drops onto him. Ross unhooks his legs and pushes at Chris’ chest, but it’s no use.

“It’s kind of hard to breathe,” Ross tries. Chris only presses down harder. “What are you doing?”

“You’re warm,” Chris says.

“I’m pretty sure you’re warmer.”

“Hmm, then together we’re extra warm.”

Ross pushes at him again. “Then let’s get under the blanket… Although I have come all over my stomach.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chris says, and he finally slides off and out of Ross. But some article of clothing is dropped onto him and Ross uses it to clean up. He throws it onto the floor once he’s done and helps Chris with getting the blanket over them.

“We should really shower,” Ross says, even though at this point he doesn’t think he wants to leave the bed.

Chris snuggles into his side, confining Ross within his arms. “Not allowed,” Chris mutters, and Ross knows that he isn’t going anywhere.

* * *

It isn’t until mid-afternoon the next day that Chris drives them to the airport. It’s another cloudless day, and Ross is ready to leave the oppressing heat of the desert, even if that means going back to work.

Alex lifts their bags from the trunk, then shuts it with a sigh. “Didn’t even feel like a week.”

“Bet you spent enough,” Ross says.

“Yeah, but if Sips hadn’t helped us out we all woulda spent more.”

“It was nothing,” Chris says. He winks, and Alex laughs.

“Thanks for hanging out with us,” Alex drawls, and wraps an arm around Trott. “Come visit us again sometime, okay?”

Chris nods, promises them all that he will. Alex and Trott grab their luggage and head into the airport, leaving Ross alone with Chris. It’s quiet between them, and Ross wonders if he should just say a quick goodbye. But he stands still, arms crossed.

“We’ll figure something out,” Chris says a beat later. “Don’t worry about it too much.”

Ross finds himself nodding. He thinks that this time will be different, that they _will_ be able to make it work. Before Ross realizes it, Chris is hugging him, and Ross relaxes against him.

“Don’t say it,” Chris tells him, and Ross doesn’t know what he’s referring to, so he waits. “Don’t say you’ll miss me.”

“But I will,” Ross confesses.

“Then we’ll have to change that, soon.” Chris gives a pat to Ross’ back before he steps away. He picks up Ross’ bag and hands it to him. Ross takes it, heart suddenly feeling heavy with realization that they are parting for who knows how long. But he can’t let it get to him, so he offers a smile.

“Thanks for letting us stay with you,” Ross says, because he hasn’t properly thanked Chris yet. But Chris shakes his head.

“Like I said, it was nothing. Now get out of here, loverboy. You have a plane to catch.” Chris’ smile makes him feel better.

“I’ll call you when we land,” Ross says.

“You better.”

Ross lifts a hand in parting, and makes his way to the doors of the airport. Once he reaches them, he turns. Chris is still there, and he gives a wave. Ross takes a deep breath, lets himself take in the scene of Chris next to his car, backdrop of palm trees and sparkling water fountain good enough to be put on a postcard signed _wish you were here_. Then he enters the airport, taking comfort in knowing that it won’t be long before he sees Chris again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and leaving lovely comments, it means the world to me <3


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